


Lost Future

by Stardust_and_Blades



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Character Death, Dead Keith (Voltron), Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), M/M, Marriage Proposal, Sad Lance (Voltron), i have a problem with writing tragedies someone take my computer away, just watch clannad after story, no i will not apologize - Freeform, possible angst with a happy ending, shania how will it have a happy ending, shania must be stopped 2k19, shania stop writing dead keith you're making us sad, then you will know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2020-09-08 03:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20293708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stardust_and_Blades/pseuds/Stardust_and_Blades
Summary: Lance and Keith are happily in a relationship, living together and getting ready to start their lives together as a married couple.However, life has other plans, for right before the wedding tragedy strikes the two.Altering between the past and present, come to learn how the two doomed boys learned to fall in love, cope with loss, and even go so far as to alter fate itself by their strong wish to be together in life and in death.





	1. The Beginning of The End

**Author's Note:**

> Before any of ya'll put my head on a pike jUST WAIT UNTIL I FINISH THIS I PROMISE IT WILL HAVE A HAPPY ENDING
> 
> Anyway yo gurl back at it again with the angsty writing bc I have ISSUES.  
Title was aided by the lovely reader, Carthix, who is on tumblr and is no doubt debating on smacking the shit out of me for putting these boys through more hell.
> 
> No I am not sorry.
> 
> HAPPY READING!

“Where in the world are you taking me?”

“I told you, to the apartment.”

“Then why am I blindfolded?”

“It’s a surpriiiiiiiise,” Lance said in a sing-song voice. He kept he hands on Keith’s shoulders, the other holding his hands out despite Lance’s guiding. He doesn’t know what is going on, and he doesn’t know whether to feel amused or slightly terrified. It was October, it can either spell beautiful gifts or an evening of Keith chasing Lance around the apartment with a shoe ready to throw for scaring him. It wouldn’t be the first time both has happened. 

Keith heard the normal creak of door, still not fixed though they have sent numerous requests to cease the creaking. Lance’s hands disappeared, Keith blinking away the darkness and adjusted to the dark surroundings. The lights were turned off, leaving Keith with a big question mark above his head. He reached to flip on the switch, but Lance batted his hand away.

“Ah ah, not yet. You need to sit down first.”

“I can’t see shit.” Keith said, blunt. Lance just chuckled and took his hand. Keith tripped over a few unknown artifacts, most likely the decor Lance placed around the living room and kitchen in order to give it life. Well would be about ready to end a life if Keith couldn’t see where he was going. 

“Damn it Lance, are you trying to surprise me or kill me?”

Lance feigned an offended gasp. “Keith! I would never!”

“That’s up for debate.” He grumbled. Honestly, what was happening?

“Shush, grumpypants.” Lance poked his cheek. He finally settled Keith on a chair, but walked away.

“Where are you going?”

“To switch the lights on. Do me a favor and keep your eyes on the front of you.”

Keith quirked an eyebrow up, but obeyed and kept his sight on whatever was supposed to be displayed. The lights flicker on and lo and behold, the small, cheap kitchen table was adorn in red silk, blue candles nestled in a candelabra Keith is sure Lance either stole or borrowed (is that an antique?), and rose petals scattered about. Their favorite dishes laid on finely etched porcelain plates, ones Keith has never seen before. In addition, plopped right on top of his empty plate is a purple stuffed lion, its large eyes staring up at him, practically giving him the puppy dog eyes. It was cute; something to rival Keith’s childhood stuffed hippo his parents gave him before they passed away. 

Keith was speechless. Today isn’t his birthday or halloween–did he miss something? Was today their anniversary? No, that was two months away. Unless…

Lance–”

“AH!” Lance admonished, stopping his head from turning around. “Don’t look! Give me a second.”

He couldn’t help it–he laughed. “What are you doing? This is wonderful, but you know I’m not big on surprises.” He picked up the stuffed lion, smiling fondly at the animal. “Though I have to admit, I’m starting to change my mind.”

“Oh if you think that will change you’re mind, you’re going to love what is next.” Lance said, Keith telling there is a grin splayed on his other half.

He hugged the lion to himself, silently waiting for the kicker. 

There was a rustle of cloth and a little bit of cursing (Lance seemed to be having trouble), and it took much of Keith’s strength and patience not to turn around. When Lance finally gave the go ahead to turn, Keith expected anything other than what he sets his eyes on.

They widen, his mouth agape at his kneeling boyfriend, a nervous blush dusting his neck and cheeks in quick succession. A black box is in his hands, one opened it to show the contents. A silver engagement ring sat in the confines of red satin, a small diamond embedded in the stainless metal, the light shining off the precious gem. It blinked up at Keith, pleading to be acknowledged, begging to be accepted. Keith, who never believed he would get married since his teen years, could feel his chest swell with an unknown sensation. It bloomed and bloomed, and as Lance jumbled out the common yet overwhelming words, the feeling burst from within in through steady, happy tears.

“I know this is our fourth year of dating,” Lance started, his eyes looking back and forth between Keith and the rest of the apartment in nervous anticipation. “But um…well I uh…I–sorry, I thought this far and now I’m kinda malfunctioning–”

“Lance.” 

Lance’s eyes met Keith’s and stayed there, Keith’s harsh irises melted into a soft lavender, a loving kiss upon his scattered head. All traces of his rough facial features vanished, replaced by hidden sweet nectar Keith kept under lock and key for a long time. The only ones who were able to break inside were Shiro and Adam, but they were shown the familial parts that had been shut down since his time in the system. This Keith–the one Lance had the privilege to break through and see–is on a different level. And it renewed Lance to think out all the thoughts he wanted to bring to light since they moved in; since they first became one and saw each other in vulnerable states.

Keith nods at him to continue, and he started again with a new kind of determination.

“Keith, you have seen me at my best and at my worst. I thought you were just some asshole kid–”

Heyyyyy,” Keith narrowed his eyes.

“But!” Lance quickly added. “But as I got to know you, I saw a different side to you. A person willing to help tutor me in physics. The kid who kept sneaking stray cats into the dorms during thunder and snow storms, despite our hall leader threatening to kick you out. The boy who found me by a tree mourning the loss of my grandmother and hearing me out. The man who led me out of town on a motorcycle just to show me the best place to see the rise of dawn and the descent of sunset. Who held my hand tenderly, yet hesitant on our first date. And with that same hand punched the lights out of James Griffin for poking fun at me.”

“Only I can poke fun at you. And Pidge.” Keith said, still smiling softly and hugging the lion closer to him.

“Only because they mean no actual harm.” He thought and scrunched up his nose. “Well…”

“Well,” They said at the same time, stopping to stare at each other and then let out another laugh. 

“Another topic for another time.” Keith said. He motioned for Lance to finish, Lance clearing his throat.

“Keith, all those moments I learned about you and spent with you are precious. They are memories I will never forget, and wouldn’t sacrifice for the world. And I would love to continue making those memories for the rest of our lives.” He pushed the box towards Keith. “Keith, will you marry me?”

The tears started all over again, and as Keith said “yes”, he took the ring, put it on, and threw himself at the boy he loved, embracing each other so tight nothing to tear them apart.

—————————–

They were heading to a fitting for their wedding. They left early in case of traffic, knowing the snow could delay the arrival. If they were late, they wouldn’t be able to get in until far later than scheduled. It was very cold out, and Keith commented on how maybe they should reschedule because the roads may be bad on the freeway. But Lance insisted they would be fine. That he knows the right route to avoid the potential slip and slide.

But no one could have anticipated the semi. The slush underneath its tires slipping into the opposite lane; for the driver to lose control. Lance pumped the breaks and tried and veer to the right, but there was no use. The breaks weren’t working and the tires kept going straight. 

A flash of headlights.

A red jacket moving to cover Lance, holding his head close to him and shielding him from the impact.

A sickening crunch of metal meeting metal.

The car turning on its side and flipping.

Lance was in and out of consciousness, his ears ringing and his vision blurry. He heard sirens in the distance, and as he attempted to move he let out a cry from the pain in his middle, his ribs most likely broken. The only thing keeping Lance from hitting the front windshield is the seatbelt he had on, it securing his body in one place. 

He lolled his head to the side, his thoughts slowly coming together and realizing he isn’t alone. He turned to his partner, and instantly wished he hadn’t.

Keith too was hanging by his seatbelt, but his arms were completely crushed. Blood spilled from his skull, his nose broken and chest not moving. Not even an inch.

Lance called out for Keith. Reached a hand over, though he knew it would cause more pain.

“Keith…” Lance rasped. “Keith. Keith, wake up. K-Keith?”

His hand wrapped around a cold one, letting out a cry that wasn’t from physical pain.

Keith’s ring is completely drenched in blood. And it will remain so until the paramedics pull them out. Until they are shipped to the hospital.

Until Lance changes his wedding plans to a funeral.


	2. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mother's reflection and her son's grief.   
What can you do when your child lost the love of their life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Throws angst bomb at you all and runs*
> 
> HAPPY READING

It started off as any normal day. 

Lance’s mother was in town, meant to be a guide in her son’s wedding since she had experience from her older children. Lance was the baby of the family, and with him long left the nest and the last to stride on the path to create his own family, his mother insisted on being included in most of the wedding preparations. She had done it since her eldest daughter was the first to marry, and she would keep on doing it until all her offspring had been given away to their significant others.   
Weddings are not only stressful, but financially frustrating. If you want the perfect wedding, you better have some money saved up or have low expectations, because one cannot simply walk into a church or venue and claim the area for theirs on that day. There are high costs. A wedding planner required money upfront. Venues can be booked for months to even years, depending on their popularity or tennant. Suits and dresses are either a hit or miss, the perfect one possibly out of budget or a rental coming out dirty and visibly used. The decision on who would be deemed the maid of honor, unless there would be too much conflict among the women and they nyxed the entire role. A cake, which no doubt would rack up dollar signs simply for the desire to have smooth fondant and a couple of edible pearls sparkled inbetween. And that all was not including wedding presents, capacity, food catering, flowers, a DJ or band, miscellaneous decorations, invitations, wedding rings and bands with or without diamonds, the honeymoon, flights, and anything else worthy of causing dizziness and shock.   
She knew her son well. Knew he would want to go big or go home. But with Keith and him barely getting their feet in the soil of adulthood, she did not see riches in their future. Not under a year, that is. So she flew herself down to their city and took it upon herself to guide them. She initially planned to stay in a cheap motel to give them space, but they declared it inhumane and pushed for her to stay in the guest bedroom. They were going to change to a one-bedroom apartment since it’s cheaper and they share the same room, but the extra space was nice with how often their friends come by for game nights and conk out at 1 a.m.  
She still felt the need to give them space, however. Always going out for walks, always taking the bus to the market or travelling to the city’s largest library where she could lose herself in a good novel and some coffee. When she would come back, she would make them dinner right before they came home or they would work together in the magnificent recipes Lance’s mother had stored in her brain.  
Keith included. His parents long dead, he saw Lance’s mother as his, though if you were to ask him, he would become tongue tied. Would be too awkward to admit it and try to find a way out of the call-out.   
Lance and her always smiled at those moments. It was sweet. And she adored the young man with all her heart. She was proud to be his mother-in-law.  
But even with all her knowledge, even with all her skills and experience, she never expected to receive a phone call on the bus to the shop she was meeting Lance and Keith at. Didn’t see the snowy afternoon to stand still, the crisp flakes coating her curly hair in layers as she stood and listened to the nurse tell her Lance was in the hospital.  
That her soon-to-be son-in-law, was no longer holding her son’s hand.

\-----

Beep…Beep…Beep…

Lance does not remember falling asleep. His body doesn’t recognize the bed underneath him, his bones slowly awakening from paralysis and gliding across rough, white sheets. Lance blinks away the sleep, his hand moving to rub away the flecks dusting his eyelashes. But when he does it is heavy; held down by an unknown force. When he tried to bend it, a sharp pain shoots up his arm, Lance grunting in response. Why did his arm hurt so much, and why is it heavy?

“Shh, lay down, mijo.” A woman says, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently pushing him back down. Lance’s vision is blurry, but he can make out the wild, fluffy curls and kind blue eyes he has been raised with. His mother brushes his hair back, ignoring the slick coating her palm and fixing the blankets around Lance.

“Mama?” Lance says groggily. “What…Where am I?”

“You’re at the hospital, dear. You were in a very bad accident.” She says all too gently. “They called me as soon as they brought you in.”

“An…accident.”

Yes, he is starting to remember now. The semi, the slick roads, his inability to control the car at 30 miles an hour in a 50 zone–

The flash of red cloth engulfing his vision before he was surrounded by darkness.

Him coming into consciousness briefly, calling out a name… a name dear to him. A name he spoke many times in the past four years. A name he yelled when irritated or bursting with excitement, a name he called out to in the heat of passion, bruised lips and hot skin invading his senses. The name he uttered in the darkest corner of the room, his face wet from a horrible day. The name he giggled when he surprised the person on their birthday, the one dripping with adoration and honeyed pet-names, despite the other blushing red and hiding in the hood of his jacket. 

The name he took a knee for and wrapped metal and a diamond around his finger, twirling him around in their small apartment at the happiness they were bestowed.

The name drenched in his own blood as they hung from their seats, dark hair covering his face while being caked in his own rivers of crimson.

The name he shouted to the officers for them to save when he was semi-conscious, losing his grip on the situation as he was pulled yet again into a dark embrace.

He suddenly tries to sit up, letting out a small howl of pain as the wrapping around his ribcage pierces into him. He is fully awake now, and he needs to know what happened.

His mother pushes him down again as his head whips around, scanning his room for a second bed. For a second comatose body with Shiro at the side, fallen asleep from the long night of “what ifs” and shuffling doctors. But he isn’t there. Shiro isn’t there, the sheets neatly creased under the mattress and pillow fluffed up.

Where could he be? They were together in the accident. Lance is sure of it. He could be in another department of the hospital, but though his memory is fuzzy, he is almost sure it was his side that got hit. He may be in a regular room with a broken bone, but...That doesn’t...that doesn’t feel right...

“Keith–where is Keith?” He asks, wild. “He was with me in the car. Is he okay? Where is he? Where is him and Shiro?”

“Lance, Lance my boy,” she hushes. “Please lay down, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

He stops, his worried irises meeting sad, avoiding twins. His mother didn’t answer his question. Why is her jaw clenched shut, her eyes swimming with unshed tears? Why does she winces when Lance set his attention on her, his desire for an answer growing bigger than him. Why did her hand tighten around his uninjured one, covering the engagement ring his wore with pride?

“Lance…About…About Keith…”

“What? What about him? Mama, please tell me he is okay. “

She closes her eyes, a tear falling out. “My dear boy…I am so sorry.” She closes her mouth, covering it with a fist as she breathed in, her core shaking. Breaking for her youngest. Cursing the fates for turning their backs on them. Lance sat there, frozen in place as his mother cried, not connecting two and two together. She must be crying because he is in critical condition. It must be. That would explain Lance in a stable unit. Keith is in the ICU, being monitored by doctors and nurses alike, Shiro anxiously waiting for Keith to wake up from the injuries. Lance got the sides wrong. He was hit rather than Lance and that’s why they were separated. Afterall, he couldn’t be–he couldn’t be–

“Lance, he passed away. When the paramedics arrived on the scene, it was already too late.”

The ice keeping him at bay shattered. It plunged him into a sea of deadly waters and stabbing icicles. It seized his veins and altered them into brittle snowflakes, melting with the antarctic. The iceberg, carefully concealed by the frosted fog and endless depths, hit him as hard as the titanic. He can feel himself breaking–his mind unravelling as the realization hits him.

Keith is no longer in the world.

Lance does not immediately react. He is completely still in his mother’s arms, eyes unseeing as they stare at his itchy blanket. He isn’t even sure if he is breathing. All he can process is the ring on his finger will never become a wedding ring. That its partner is not hooked up to IV’s and held by its adopted family, but cold and wrapped around a finger with no pulse; the red stone living in a crevice now surrounded by its owner’s blood.

No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. This isn’t right. This has to be a joke. A cruel, cruel joke. Keith was just right next to him. He was holding Lance’s hand at a stop light. Joking about the decor being too fancy. The two betting against the other on who is going to cry first at the reception.

But now it is like he is drowning. Like he is running to Keith; reaching out to him. Begging him to come back. But Keith can’t hear him. Lance can’t touch him. His back is to Lance, facing a light Lance cannot follow. Deaf to his love’s screams. Blind to what the light represents.

_ Don’t go. Please don’t leave me. You promised. You promised we would be happy. _

It isn’t until his mother’s arms tightens and whispering his favorite song that he realizes he is crying. She only sang the song when he was upset. And he is upset, but it does not bring him relief. It just makes him cry harder, Lance burying his face in her arms as she joins him in his sadness. She loved his fiance as if he were her own son. She can recall the moment Lance introduced him to her, a nervous young man who hid behind his gloves and striking, defensive indigo eyes. How he stiffened when she welcomed him with warmth, yet embraced her with as much care. He wasn’t as enthusiastic, but she knew his reciprocation spoke louder than words. He didn’t hug often, but when he did, he made it count.

And he made it count to love her son. When she heard the news and saw Shiro outside of the room they tried to revive him in one last time, she was hit with a wave of pain in her chest, it bleeding for her son and the loss of the boy she desperately wanted to call son-in-law. 

She doesn’t leave Lance’s side. Not when he exhausts himself of tears, and not when he requests to see the body. He is on crutches, yet he does not let that stop him.

She held his hand like when he was a little boy–scared of the new world and gripping his mother’s dress as the kindergarten teacher aided in prying him off of her.

Now it is her prying at him, wishing him to not look at the dead body. Asking him if he is sure in his decision. Internally wanting to cover his eyes and lead him back to bed.

But she lets him go and watches as he moves the dark hair away from the pale, scarred face, Keith’s expression looking to be asleep than dead. Lance gazes down, ignoring the shivers coursing through his bones from the temperature.

He bends down and kisses Keith’s far too cold forehead. As he does, she can see a small tear land on Keith’s cheek, as if he too is crying for the happiness stolen from their fingertips. 

She believed Lance would not feel this pain until the ripe old age of 82. Saw them flourishing and all smiles as they walked down the aisle to their new life.

Instead, she is seeing her youngest--her baby--go through the pain she went through years ago. But while she had time with his father, Lance might as well have been cheated by life. 

She had years. But he...he only had a tiny sliver of what she was blessed with before an undeserving curse reign down upon him in a single day.

\-------

[Yell at me on tumblr!](https://stardust-and-blades.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS.
> 
> Added some scenes and am mixing up the order into chronological, since it would make the most sense besides the snapshot chapters.
> 
> Just a heads-up, snapshot chapters will venture into the relationship and their past. Kind of like a memory in a movie. You may even see some chapters in Keith's point of view :3
> 
> Anyway smash that kudos button and leave a comment/bookmark! I'm glad to see you guys like the angst for some reason :P


	3. Stuffed Treasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance asks his mother to retrieve something for him, and he recalls on a memory that leaves his heart a little lighter. It is small, but it keeps him going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FALL BREAK MEANS UPDATE BITCHES.
> 
> Happy reading, I may do another update this week if my work allows it :3

“Wow, didn’t expect my plushie to be sat next to the infamous hippos.” Lance teased, watching Keith from their bed as his settled his lion plushie next to his hippos. Keith quirked his eyebrow at him from the side, his lips curved up in amusement.

“It’s cute. And you’re important to me, just like my parents were.” He gently placed the lion beside the purple hippos, the few artifacts he still held from childhood. His parents, who spoiled him like rotten at a young age, gave the hippos to him when he turned seven, a tiny Keith running around with them even when he entered school. He had no concept of shame. Why should he be when he had two treasures he could show off to the other kids? He didn’t care what they thought. Not when the other kids frowned and asked why he still had stuffed animals. Not when he always brought the hippos to show-and-tell, despite it being the fifth time he did it. Not even when they got dirty, the teacher begging him to let them go so she could give them a proper bath.

He loved his parents. He loved his hippos. They were his special gift.

When his parents died at the age of ten, he still carried them around. Including high school, keeping them in his locker since he didn’t have any photos left from the fire to put up. It burned everything to the ground, and Keith was lucky to be away at the time, spending the night at an age old friend’s house. All he had in his bag were blankets, some clothes, his toothbrush, and the two boy and girl hippos when child services came knocking on the door.

Lance knew of their significance, and his heart couldn’t help but melt. He stared up at Keith, drinking in his soft expression as he handled them with care. His gloved hands, known for punching faces and the top of leather craft on his motorcycle, held the plushie with such care Lance wondered if those were really Keith’s hands. His sharp purple irises turned to honey, and though he was usually struck by a short sadness when he looked at the hippos, this time he was filled with quiet glee.

Keith noticed him staring and blushed. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No. Just…I don’t see you look like that often when you are near them. Happy and stuff.”

Keith blinked, opening and closing his mouth. He looked down at the hippos, gingerly lifting one up and dusting it off. “Oh. I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay, they were given to you by your parents. It’s normal to feel sad because they aren’t here.” Lance said, attempting to comfort him. “My father has already passed, but if I lost both of my parents at the same time, I would probably act similar.”

“Yeah…”

Lance got up from his place on the bed and approached his fiance, placing a land on his shoulder. He looked at him with concern, for Keith’s demeanor turned back into the sadness Lance knew all too well.

“You okay?”

He shrugged. “kinda. I just wish they could be here.” He lifted his right hand where the engagement ring twinkled under the lighting, the stone clear and bright. “They would have loved to meet you and see our wedding. To give me away, in a sense. I have Shiro and Adam, But…” his head lowered. “But there are times even they cannot take away the pain in my chest.”

“Hey,” Lance whispered, his hand moving to cup Keith’s face. “They may not physically be here, but I have no doubt they are looking down at us with a smile. They would want you to be happy, Keith.”

He leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and settled his own hand against Lance’s. “I am happy. More than you know.”

“Mmmm, not quite,” Lance said. Then a mischievous smile appeared on his face and the next thing Keith knew was he being peppered in kisses. Lance wrapped his arms around his waist and assaulted any piece of skin with his lips, Keith laughing and messily putting back the hippo.

“Okay, okay!” Keith said in between laughs. “Mission accomplished, loverboy.”

“Not yet!” Lance lifted Keith up in the air, eliciting a cry from the boy. He spun him around and plopped him on the bed, their limbs tangled with one another and the room filled with giggles and joyful yells. 

“Damn it Lance! I could kick your ass.” He pushed at the boy, not using all his strength but knowing full well if it were anybody else they would be in a chokehold. Lance knew of his advantage and rolled them around to where Keith is under him, his grin widening.

“Buuuut you won’t, because you love me. Because I’m your boyfri–oh wait, I’m your fiance.” He smacked a big kiss on Keith’s cheek, the cheeks of the boy underneath him hurting from the overwhelming assault of love. Keith could not recall a moment in his life where he smiled this much; where his chest was filled with enough happiness it was near bursting from its seams. Especially when Lance spoke that new word to him, especially when he thinks to the future where it will alter to a different word, a different, permanent meaning. One that will leave him in a state of bliss for as the love above him drew breath.

Keith raised his hands to trace Lance’s expression, his pointer finger gently gliding and memorizing the curves and dips of his nose. His eyes. His quirked brows. His lips twisted in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

Keith stopped and smiled, ceasing his action to hold Lance’s astonished face in his palms.

“Memorizing you. Etching this moment into my head. I do not want to forget the way you’re looking at me. I’ve...never had anyone look at me the way you do. Like I’m worthy. Like you’ll disappear at any moment, and I need to remember you until the very last second.”

“...Keith.”

Keith pulled Lance’s forehead to his, their warm skin touching as he closed his eyes. As Keith froze time in his own way, breathing when Lance did. Breathed in his clean scent, a mixture of fresh soap from his shower and crisp leaves of summer. It is autumn, yet Lance was above him, the past season held onto him like the bright mornings of Cuba. His blue irises the calm ocean, and his voice a dance on the beach. He was what melted Keith’s winter; chipped down the ice to unveil a reluctant beat, Keith never knowing true long, beautiful days and tulips blooming under the sun’s rays. 

He was a reserved type of person. One who did not initiate affection easily (or publically), but as he remain beneath Lance, he was able to let go of his walls and just be. To be a simple impulse.

“I cannot wait to marry you.” He said.

And Lance felt the same way as he kissed Keith’s brow, giddy for the future. Excited to live the rest of his days with the man he loves.

\-----

Lance’s mother is to return to the apartment to gather some clothes, toothbrush, and toothpaste. Lance is to be monitored at the hospital for a couple more days, his broken limbs and concussion needing to be watched in case there is a sudden turn in health. Lance was hit head on.The doctor’s worried his good condition was temporary. It wouldn’t be the first time someone they thought was in complete safety twist their recovery into critical condition.

He is tired. From the accident to the immense amount of crying he did in his mother’s arms, his eyes are weighed with their own individual bags of rocks. Being knocked out does not equate to sleeping, and with his body being in constant drive of staying alive, he is bound to burn out.

If only the hospital invested in more comfortable beds and sheets. 

His mother swung her bag over her shoulder when, in a small, scratchy voice, her son calls out to her.

“Um...mama?”

“Yes, mi hijo?”

“Can you...grab something extra for me? It’s in mine and K--my room. It’s on the bookshelf with two hippos. A...stuffed lion.”

She does not need to ask why. Nor does she need details, because it is written all over her son’s sad eyes as he avoids her gaze and picks at the bandages on his wrapped arm. He has said goodbye, but his heart is not near the possibility of healing. The doctors have wrapped him up safe and stable, but they could not strip away the accident from his memory. She wonders if it really is worse to have never loved, as the saying goes. If her husband were still around he would be able to help her figure out how to help their son. Her and Lance are close, but this is a whole new level of pain she can relate to, yet still be at a loss for words. For action.

Before she could descend into her own sadness, she gives Lance a tired smile and nods, stating she will return soon and to ring for the nurses if he needs anything in her absence. 

As her footsteps retreat into the dead of night, Lance lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. He leans against his small pillow, staring up at the white ceiling. The halls are quiet. The hum of fluorescent lights and light footfalls of nurses the one sign of time moving forward. A normalcy. An ignorance to the shadows playing on Lance’s room. All he can think about is how this has to be a nightmare. How he has to wake up. Wake up now to end the cold that has set in his veins. 

Wake up, Lance. When you do Keith will be right--

The lights flicker on, and Lance’s body shoots up, his side screaming in protest. He opens his mouth, the familiar lilt of a “K” on the tip of his tongue about to roll out. But as he did, as his gaze looks for the long strands of black hair and scowling violets, he is met with rather a pair of scrubs and blonde hair tied in a messy ponytail. His excitement dies down, the nurse apologized for disturbing him and that she is there to check on his vitals. She searches the machines and Lance, commenting on how he is doing exceptionally well considering how bad his side was messed up, and left.

In most cases, he would be in a room with another stranger.

But here, he is alone. Wholly, completely alone. He cannot tell if he should be thankful for that, because the waves of devastation return as fast as his understanding of what the nurse meant.

The car is demolished. In total ruin, Lance’s half severely deformed. If the semi hit just a couple of inches closer to Lance’s side, Lance could have been paralyzed. Or worse, sent home in a body bag. Keith’s side, from what he heard from his mother when he asked, is just as bad. The roof is caved in. The hood and passenger door condensed into one, the windshield shattered, and the seats...God, the seats are drenched in blood. When the paramedics arrived on scene, they had to cut them out of the vehicle. Lance’s was a little easier, since the impact did not reach maximum strength on his side like expected. But as much as they tried, as much as they hurried, Keith was lost. The moment Lance saw Keith’s body, he knew the accident took all its force into his side. 

His light skin was bruised. His arms noted to be limp and twisted, some bone peaking out. A kneecap destroyed. His ribs piercing his lungs, no doubt causing him to drown in his own blood. His hip broken, and his spine was near to snapping in half.

Lance cannot remember clearly the moments he was conscious when they hit the semi and rolled. But something--call it intuition or trauma--tells him Keith did some protecting. He can recall the fast click of a seatbelt after his scream. The red of his jacket wrapping around Lance. A hand touch the white knuckles of the one holding the steering wheel. His warm body against his until the jostle of the car lead to him eventually letting go and be tossed around like a rag doll.

It sounds impossible. Something that belongs in a movie with no research behind it. But the doctors even said Lance’s side should have taken the worst of it. Lance’s side was supposed to be squished and twisted. Lance was the one who was supposed to be in the ICU, since he claims he tried turning the car right instead of left. 

They call it a miracle. Lance sees it as a curse, for it meant only one thing.

Keith, by whatever chance--divine intervention or the Devil’s wish--protected Lance. 

He protected him. And in turn, it cost him his life. His future. Their future. The one they were so close to grasping in the palms of their hands, they could have tasted it. 

That’s Keith for you. Always playing the hero; always putting his loved ones first. He could have been told he had to wrestle with a God, and he would if it meant those he cared about remain safe and sound. It is why he constantly wore those biker gloves. Both for protection from tearing and to prep his knuckles for a beat down. Except in this case, there was no protection for him. It was just him and a vehicle.

Lance wants to curse him. To reverse time and tell him not to do what he did. To let nature run its course and take Lance instead of him. But then again, would that make him any better than Keith? They wanted to protect each other. To fight for the other. Lance would be a hypocrite if he didn’t have similar ideas. They were two sides of the same coin, their direction different but their motives the same. 

Still. It doesn’t mean he accepts it. It just made his heart bleed more. He has no tears left to shed, yet his chest constricts with each passing moment, aware of his breathing. Aware of the nightmare never fading into the black.

He cannot so much as sleep. His mind his racing, and the only thing he can think of able to calm him in the slightest is the object he requested his mother to retrieve. 

When she does return, she is not surprised he is still awake, the lines under his eyes prominent, and his irises burning the wall with his gaze. She lightly knocks on the side of the doorway, Lance looking over and giving her a wave with his good arm and a small smile. 

“Mijo, I’ve been gone for awhile. You should have slept.”

“I couldn’t sleep. You know. Thoughts and stuff.”

“My son...”

Lance waves away her oncoming comment. He wants to ease her worries, not increase it. If that means he has to fake it until he makes it, then so be it. One of them should be able to get proper rest. With the heaviness lingering in his chest, he doubts he will enter blissful dreams. 

“Did you get it?”

She nods, opening her purse and displaying the red lion in her palms. The lion still looks brand new, Keith one to take care of his personal treasures like fine gold. The hippos themselves could almost be mistaken for new plushies, save for the few stitches Keith had woven through their arms and one’s leg, time pulling their thread into fragility. 

Lance can recall that day as clear as a mirror. How Keith was shocked to see the seems unravelling and its white stuffing popping out, clouds emerging from the animal’s crevice. Lance told him it was normal, considering he had them for over a decade. That he would be willing to sew it back on directly or with a patch. But Keith shook his head, requesting Lance teach him to sew so he could tie up the fray edges with careful precision. It took some time--two weeks of Keith swearing and grumbling over bloody fingertips and confusing stitches--before he could officially close up the gaps. Lance laughed all the way through, patient and full of smiles when Keith did his signature frown. Poke fun at his stubborness in his refusal to let anyone else touch the hippos. Keith had just poked him lightly with his needle, jokingly saying his first experiment will be on Lance’s mouth if he didn’t shut up.

_ “I don’t see why you won’t take your time, love,” Lance commented, watching as Keith fumbled with undoing a stitch on the floor of their living room.“Learning a new skill takes time. I doubt the hippos will fall apart if you left them alone for a little longer.” _

_ “I don’t want to forget.” He mumbled, attention only half on Lance. He swore again, his pointer finger bleeding for the fifth time that night. At this rate, he would have to make up some elaborate story to tell Pidge on why his fingers were wrapped up. “Plus, Kolivan has been up my ass with helping the dojo. We got a huge influx of registrations this summer, and if I want to own my own business one day, I have to learn everything Kolivan suggests. I don’t know when I’ll have as much time as today.” _

_ “Kolivan Schmoligan,” Lance said. “You can ask for a day off to dedicate yourself to your new career in sewing. But if you rush it, it’s gonna come out sloppy. Or bloody.” He said the last part right as Keith stabbed his pinky. He yelped, released the fabric and string and flicked his wrist. As if that could make the pain disappear completely.  _

_ Lance shook his head. He took Keith’s less assaulted hand and pulled him up. “Okay, that’s enough practice for one night. You want to fix a small tear, not leave your body fluids for future sacrificial means.” _

_ “I’m almost done--” _

_ “Nope, nurse Lance says that’s it. You can continue practicing when you can wield a needle like a knife--with patience and caution.” _

_ “I am being cautious--” _

_ “You’re making your hands look like a sheet of connect-the-dots.”  _

_ “It’s not that bad--Ow!” Keith exclaimed as Lance placed a little pressure on his index finger. Keith mumbled something under his breath, reluctantly allowing Lance to pull out the first aid kit in the bathroom mirror’s compartment. He hummed to himself, flipped open the top while he debated on which band-aids to use. There were the standard beige colored wrappings everyone had at their disposal. But there were also ones Lance loved to hold on to. Ones for him to stick onto paper cuts and skinned knees his niece and nephew would get from a long day at the park. Ones they picked out during a visit, Lance cooing at the cute white kitty and her equally as cute friends. _

_ Without a second thought, he plucked the box from its section. He then grabbed the rubbing alcohol, letting go of Keith so he could dab it on a cotton swab. As he gently glided the damp cotton on Keith’s wounds, the other boy hissed, the pain feeling like another round of needles penetrating his skin. Keith instinctively tried to pull away, stated he doubt he would gain an infection by such shallow harm. But Lance ignored him, yanking his hand back towards Lance and soon moved on to the next. Lance couldn’t help but smile. It was funny to see Keith in a vulnerable moment. Who would have guessed Lance would be taking care of Keith for something so minor as needle wounds? Hunk would think it was sweet. Pidge, on the other hand, would note it for blackmail.  _

_ A swell of pride unravelled in Lance’s chest. Not because Keith is hurt for a silly reason and is being cared for said silly reason, but because Keith is comfortable enough with him to allow Lance to take care of him. When they first met, Keith wouldn’t have even let Lance know if he was hurt. Now, Keith’s walls were nonexistent. _

_ Lance was happy to have a flicker of a moment be so meaningful. _

_ But he was also happy he could be a little shit when Keith wasn’t paying attention. _

_ Sure enough, Lance had wrapped each wounded finger with a Hello Kitty sticker, its pink background a beacon to all who set their eyes on Keith’s hands. They were always covered by black biker gloves, courtesy of Keith’s tendency to style himself as the badass emo kid. _

_ Now he was a badass emo kid with a soft side.  _

_ Keith being Keith, did not notice until Lance patted his bandaged fingers, the boy distracted by Lance’s care for even the smallest of injuries. He was too lost in his thoughts, staring at Lance as he reminisced over the waterfall of warmth covered him from head to toe. When he finally did snap himself out of his lovestruck moment, he proceeded to grab a pillow and chase Lance around the apartment, threatening to throw away his expensive skincare products as revenge.  _

_ And yet, by the end of the night when they were tired and worn out from a fight to the death with pillows, Keith did not take them off. Not when Lance offered to replace them with the beige ones, and not when Pidge and Hunk made jokes of Keith being a clone. He would just halfheartedly rolled his eyes and breach onto another subject, the pink stickers somehow not clashing with his leather jackets and black fingerless gloves.  _

_ He would put one arm down and wrap a single pinky around Lance’s as they were talking, never forgetting what they really meant to Keith. _

Lance smiles at the memory. He lifts one of the arms of the lion and brushes his thumb against the bright red thread, recalling how Keith couldn’t find the right hue but settling on the closest one they had since it will be hidden most of the time. He practiced enough the stitches look good; precise and sewn with love. The boy unafraid to dirty his hands with bruises and scrapes was also the boy to wield a form of healing. Of putting down the sword and taking on an art form meant to fix, not destroy. 

Lance does not feel nearly as alone. Keith is gone. But as he settles the lion beside him on the bed and held it close to his chest, he is able to imagine--to feel--an embrace around his shoulders. A protective blanket covering him from the darkness, temporarily letting his gloom dissipate for the gift Keith left behind. 

They were Keith’s stuffed treasures. His heart wrapped behind cloth and stuffing. But in that moment, the lion became his salvation; the goodbye hug Keith couldn’t give, the adoration he left in his footsteps to a plane Lance cannot venture in. 

He will no doubt be flooded with the cold realization the nightmare will not end the next day. But for now--for this brief second--he can dream of a warm body beside his, beating a vibrant boom from his chest and a band-aid hand circling Lance’s own. A soft kiss against his temple as sleep descends upon him, the hospital and its meaning no longer existing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think this is painful imagine what I have in my outline HOLD ONTO YOUR BUTTS
> 
> Please leave a comment and kudos, and don't be afraid to slam that bookmark button, because I live for your support. Thank you for your patience as school kicks my latina ass (rip)


	4. Down the Grapevine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calls, the shock, and some flashbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI YES HELLO IM ALIVE
> 
> "Shania you were supposed to give us a double update"
> 
> I know and I'm sorry but I want to give ya'll long fucking chapters, not itty bitty ones
> 
> better have some tissues because OOF

When Hunk found out about the accident, he was convinced it was a cruel joke Pidge was playing. He was with Shay in the front of their house, clearing the driveway of the hefty snow mother nature left in her wake. He had a shovel in hand, chopping at ice and slick while Shay uncovered the car from its white sheets and fragile ice coffin. All was quiet, the sun shining bright over their head, but the cold slithering beneath their carefully wrapped bodies reminding them of mundane day being an illusion. The puffs of steam that left their mouths, the welcoming scent of coffee grinds wafting from the kitchen through the gapped doorway, the light shuffle of two pairs of feet were all about to freeze. The color of their lives about to be leached away, its comfort and routine sucked dry upon the ring of Hunk’s cell phone. 

He believed it was going to be a normal day of poking fun and gushing about the wedding to take place in a couple of weeks.

But instead a death rattle sounded over the church bells Hunk thought he would hear. 

He had dropped his shovel, Shay’s content expression maring with concern. She noticed Hunk’s bright chocolate irises widen, a hand moving to cover his mouth. As if to stop something from coming out. As if he were to silence the clawing sensation in his chest, ready to punch him in the gut and rip from his lungs. 

Hunk just angrily told Pidge to stop messing around, but as he listened to her strained voice, as he heard a worried Matt in the background, whispering her stuff Hunk couldn’t understand, the screaming realization decked him in the face.

Lance is stable and okay. But Keith...Oh God, Keith...

Shay had to help Hunk inside the house. He about near collapsed there in the snow, the cold suddenly filling every fiber of his body. His head was spinning, his legs weak. He couldn’t even muster the tears yet, for the shock had rocked him so hard he had to ask himself if this was real. If anything he could hear, smell, feel, or see could be an illusion. 

Now as he sat at the kitchen table with Shay’s hand in his grasp and her taking his place on the phone, the reality of it all crashes down on him. This is no very early april fools joke the gang enjoyed pulling on Hunk. There will be no Lance and Keith popping up from one of the bedrooms, exclaiming how Hunk is too much of a worry wart. There will be no reason to ask his work for a day off in two weeks time, his desire to see his best friend finally settle down blowing up in flames. 

“This can’t be happening...” Hunk mumbles to himself, frozen in shock. “This isn’t...This is _ wrong _...”

“Hunk...” Shay whispers, squeezing his hand. She opens and closes her mouth, racking her brain for the right words. For a response that would take away the devastation from her love’s eyes. But how can one clear away storm clouds pulsing with such heavy rain, her sunshine cannot evaporate it into thin air?

She cannot fix anything. All she can do his sit beside her love, letting him know he is not alone.

But that in itself is a problem as well. It’s what they both knew as they held each other’s hands. They have someone to touch. A pulse to feel underneath the weight of the pile of boulders slamming on their backs. 

They have their own shield. Their own comfort and knowledge the other person will not fade away.

But their close friend--friends--have been ripped to pieces in a matter of minutes. In the seconds Pidge talked to both Hunk and Shay, the news coming from Shiro and, undoubtedly, the doctors taking care of Lance. 

If only that was the only thing breaking Hunk. If only the knowledge of his now deceased friend and his funeral were the things weighing on his mind.

But no. There is a third, shattering realization Hunk has come to as he and Shay mourn in their kitchen. As the hot chocolate remains untouched, their cheeks stained with salt tracks and Hunk’s vision becoming hazy as he slowly processes his future actions.

Death has struck a painful blow to them. To Lance.

But it is Hunk who will end up pouring salt in the wound. Because he has an obligation for Keith. A bundle of paper hidden away in an envelope upstairs in his drawers, Hunk sure it was going to be thrown in the fire or completely forgotten by age.

The thought of it just spun him in a new wave of despair, Keith’s prediction and Hunk’s fear coming to a horrible light.

He is pretty sure he mumbled something about it, for Shay has pulled away slightly to look at him, asking what he meant by him saying “Keith was right”.

\---

_ “Hey Hunk, can I talk to you about something?” Keith asked. _

_ Hunk’s head popped up from his shake, cocking his head to the side. “Of course. What’s up, bud?” _

_ Keith looked down at his untouched drink, his hand tightening around the plastic. The diner they sat at was loud, rush hour for the corner food restaurant finally hitting at the stroke of 5. Keith ran into Hunk on his way from work, the other inviting them to dinner since Lance would not be home until later and knowing full well he hasn’t seen the boy in quite awhile. Hunk is usually with Pidge or Lance, and when Keith and him are able to hang out they jump at the chance. Before they got to know each other, Keith was reluctant in getting to know Pidge’s engineer partner, resistant towards any form of human bonding. But after several encounters with him and Lance, as well as dating his best friend, they warmed up to each other in dual time. They weren’t as close as Shiro and Keith, but they weren’t strangers either. And Keith found it nice to be around Hunk, who had a permanent aura of welcoming. _

_ Which is what led him to agree to grab a shake with him. There was something that kept nagging at him for the past week, unable to talk to Lance about it because of the sensitive subject. Because, not too long ago Lance lost his grandmother, and Keith did not want to rip open the healing wound. Lance was barely getting back on his feet, Keith didn’t want to be the one to push him down again. _

_ But he couldn’t keep it to himself. He had to tell someone. While logically he could confine in Shiro, Keith has been on the fence about it. But with Hunk, it was different. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but with Hunk he felt his request would be met with a calm demeanor than an overly concerned one (aka Shiro). _

_ He just wanted a friend to confide in. Hunk is a pretty good option. _

_ Without lifting his eyes, he twirled the straw in his chocolate shake around, mixing the whipped cream and losing the cherry that sat elegantly on top. _

_ “If I ever suddenly die, will you make sure Lance is okay?” _

_ Hunk, believing Keith had a less grim question, choked on his shake, the substance almost exiting out of his nose. _

_ He looked at Keith incredulously. “What the–Keith, you’re not going to die. You’re 22!” _

_ Keith’s jaw clenched, squeezing the cup further. “Yeah, I know.” _

_ “If this is about Lance’s grandmother, Lance saw it coming. She was 86 years old, and while he is hurting he knew she was going to pass eventually. But this–” _

_ “I’m young, I see that, Hunk.” Keith stated, his voice flat. “But my parents were in their late twenties when they died. Not all people live until a ripe old age.” _

_ “Yeah, not all. But the odds are very different from the elderly.” Hunk’s brows furrowed. “You still have, what, 60 years on your side? I don’t see why you’re worrying about death now. Unless…” Hunk gasped, grabbing Keith’s wrist and pulling him close enough Keith can see his own reflection in his brown irises. “Oh no, Keith do you have a deadly disease? Cancer? Did you tell Shiro? Why haven’t you told Lance?” _

_ Hunk ceased his babbling when Keith shook his head. “No, no my health is fine. There is no disease or cancer in my family besides insomnia.” _

_ “Oh.” Hunk said, releasing Keith. He still stared at Keith, perplexed. “Then why are you telling me this?” _

_ “Because while I want to believe I’ll live a long life, that isn’t always insured.” He reached inside his hoodie’s front pockets, extracting a thick envelope. “After seeing Lance deal with his grandmother’s death, I began thinking. What if something happened to me? What if I didn’t die of old age, but something else? What would I leave behind?” _

_ Hunk gazed at him with sympathy, seeing his point but not wanting to put it out in the universe. When Keith pushed the envelope towards him, he didn’t take it. “I…see where the anxiety is coming from. But I don’t think it is necessary. Keith, I think you will live a long life. It’s not like we are in a middle of a war.” Hunk attempted to emphasize a joke, but it fell flat at the end. Keith gave him a small smile, not angry Hunk wanted to place faith in a positive future. And who was to say Keith is right? He has been wrong before, and for once he hopes Hunk’s resistance towards his epiphany meant his worries were for nothing. _

_ But he can’t leave a stone unturned. So he continued. _

_ “We aren’t, but just in case.” He slid the parchment closer to him. “Hunk, you’re one of Lance’s closest friends and one of the few people I let in. I know this is a lot to ask for, but there is no one else I can ask this from. Shiro is stressed enough, and knowing Pidge they would accidentally let it slip what is going on too early. I don’t want to worry Lance. Not when it is necessary. And who knows, maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m being paranoid. But I won’t take any chances. Not now.” _

_ Hunk wanted to reach over and hug the guy. He seemed so…so sad. As if he just announced his death date. As if he is dying in the moment, unable to stop it and needing to release his last words. What’s worse is he won’t be able to really talk to Lance about it. Because despite him telling his love everything, despite wanting to inform him of this issue, both of them knew Lance wouldn’t take it well. He would be strong and reassure Keith, yes. But Hunk knew it would linger in the back of his mind just like Keith, whether something bad happened or not. _

_ Why worry him over something that may not even happen? _

_ “Is this because of what happened to your parents?” Hunk asked softly, hoping he wasn’t reopening old wounds. Keith’s eyes flash to Hunk, immediately on guard and set to strike. _

_ “What?” _

_ Hunk hesitates, but went on. “Your parents died in a fire when you were little. Is it because of that incident that you’re telling me this? Because you weren’t left with a last word?” _

_ “I…” Keith struggled to find words. “I…uh…I…” He pushed away his now melted shake and combed his fingers through his hair, pulling at it and the furrow on his brow deepening. _

_ Hunk regretted speaking. He placed a gentle hand on his arm, trying to dispel Keith’s shocked and unhinged thoughts. He never talked about his parents. Why would it be any different with Hunk? The poor boy is bordering on distraught. _

_ “Keith,” Hunk said. “It’s okay. Breathe. Take your time.” _

_ “I’m fine.” He grunted. _

_ “Uh, no you’re not. I’m not dumb. I know when a friend is hurting.” _

_ “I’m okay.” _

_ Hunk crossed his arms and leaned back against the booth, settling Keith with an admonishing look for lying. Keith withered under it, his tough attitude nothing but a shield towards outsiders when it comes to his emotions. But Hunk is no regular outsider. Hunk is the empath; the mediator. The one most in tune with his and everyone else’s emotions, the slightest twitch of a muscle instantly alerting him of whether a person is experiencing positive or negative emotions. _

_ “Okay, so you’re not wrong,” Keith mumbled. “I…didn’t think about it until you mentioned it. Which makes sense. Why I’m on edge. Why I’m doing this. One moment they were around, the next they weren’t. I was…left with so many questions.” _

_ “And you don’t want Lance to be left without a word. You want him to have closure and move on.” _

_ Keith nodded. “It is what I would have appreciated.” _

_ “But you were ten. You didn’t want a letter, you wanted your parents back.” _

_ “Still. As I got older, I wished they left…something. A letter. A will. a card. I don’t know. Anything that…um..” Keith began to lose his voice. He wasn’t one to be vulnerable in front of anyone. He has done that in very few moments–one being around Shiro. Heck, Lance and him are together and Lance himself says Keith had a bad habit of locking all his thoughts and emotions up until they burst. Him and Hunk may be friends, but he still struggled with the habit. Of letting people in. _

_ Hunk is patient. He waited for Keith to go on, melting his stern eyes into smooth, shining chocolate. The waitress stopped by the ask if they wanted anything else, and Hunk knowing what Keith liked, ordered a plate of cheese fries. _

_ “Lance probably is home now.” Keith commented. _

_ “Tough. He can wait.” He flung a fry into his mouth when it arrived. “Serves him right for keeping you all to himself.” _

_ “I’m really not that great.” He said mid-chew, a little quiet. _

_ Hunk threw a fry at him. “Stop it. I see him all the time but seeing you is like waiting for a fish to do a trick. I deserve to spend time with his boyfriend platonically. I AM going to be best man at your guys’ wedding afterall.” _

_ Keith inhaled his soupy shake all too fast as Hunk said that, it going down the wrong throat and was thrust into a coughing fit. What the fuck. _

_ “We have been dating for a year!” _

_ Hunk waved his finger around and clicked his tongue. “My good man, I know love when I see it. And you two aren’t separating anytime soon.” _

_ “Y-you don’t know that!” _

_ “I do. I better, or else Pidge wins the bet.” _

_ “There is a bet!?” _

_ “Between them, Shiro, and I yeah.” Hunk gave him an innocent smile, as if he were talking about the weather. Keith is tomato red, matching the sweatshirt he adorned and wished for a hole to swallow him up. Lance and he only talked about it once and it just resulted in Keith being a gay disaster. _

_ “I’m going to murder my brother.” _

_ “Go easy on him, he’s old.” Hunk joked. _

_ “no shit.” _

_ They laughed, the bleak atmosphere lifting for the moment. They gabbed away at other topics, the envelope not coming back until they were heading out the door, Hunk almost forgetting about it and Keith having to stop him before he drove away. _

_ “You sure about this?” Hunk asked. _

_ Keith pushed it in his hand as an answer. He nervously glanced around the parking lot, dusk drawing near, but his tone remaining steady. _

_ “You were right. About my parents.” He started, the gravel becoming incredibly interesting. “I know Lance.With a big heart comes much bleeding if cut. Deep in my gut I know if I were to die prematurely and we still loved each other, he would take a huge blow.” He closed his eyes, his hands wrapping around his bag’s strap and head bending down. He is soft; a whisper amidst the raging wind, meant to be casted to the unknown if it weren’t for Hunk’s good hearing. _

_ “I maybe wouldn’t have handled my parent’s death well even with a letter or will. I was a kid. I just wanted them back. Knowing Lance, he’d want me back. Though I wouldn’t be able to return to his side, I want to know I’d leave this earth with something for him to find. To grasp onto. To hear–or I guess read–how I want him to be my Lance and move on. Because that is the hardest thing someone can do when they are left behind without a goodbye. Without truly knowing what the deceased wanted for them.” _

_ Hunk saw Keith’s eyes glisten, knocking him breathless. He held a waterfall at bay, refusing to let go of the ache and chose to maintain a soldier-like stance. But Hunk knew his armor, and it is not an effective protector against the heart. _

_ “Please, Hunk. Don’t let him suffer like I did when my mother and father passed. Don’t let him chase after me. I want his light to stay lit. He has so much to live for, and the thought of his goofy, adorable smile twisting into a permanent wail kills me.” _

_ Hunk gave in to his desires and pulled the boy to him, his big arms encompassing his smaller frame in a bear hug. He squeezed him close, the letter clutched in one hand and not forgotten, but a secondary issue compared to his friend’s distress. It may seem absurd, but to Hunk the future is scary. Anything can be scary, and a person’s fear of death is as valid as any other fear. He could not judge him. Could not tell him he is invalid in his logic, since he isn’t wrong. Neither of them knew what the future held, and though Hunk hoped the letter would gather dust and rot into pure pulp, there was also the possibility it would be torn open and stained with tears. _

_ Keith did not cry that night. He didn’t fully grasp Hunk in a hug, his arms laid at his sides. But his fists were bundled up, nails digging into his palms as he leaned in. _

_ His head fit on Hunk’s shoulders, and that is all the other boy needed to know Keith accepted (and needed) the embrace. _

_ Keith never brought it up again after. Hunk did not breathe a word to Lance, Pidge, Adam, or Shiro. _

_ It is a secret deal between friends. A promise for the worst case scenario, an insurance policy for their future being lost. _

\---

As soon as Hunk came to his senses and was not clouded by grief, he explained to Shay everything. The meeting. The letter. The ungodly fate thrust upon Keith and him, his throat tightening with each sentence as the single image of Lance reading that letter tears into him. As he speaks, her grip tightens. She pulls away for a moment, jogging to the fridge and snagging a bottle of water. She hands it to Hunk, the man almost breaking down in tears from the normalcy.

It is tiny, but it relieves some pressure from his bleeding heart. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Hunk says quietly. “I made a promise, but I thought...I was sure...they didn’t deserve this. Lance doesn’t deserve this.”

She squeezes his hand and doesn’t let go.

“No one does. But love,” she says. “That doesn’t mean he is going to face this alone.”

\---

The sun was high in the air when Pidge received the call from Shiro.

She knows, because she was returning from the library when she tapped the answer button, assuming Shiro had an update on the wedding or seeing if Matt was with her. Shiro had a knack for calling at the best time for her, and she was always happy to answer.

She wished the call was about those reasons. They annoyed her, but it would have been better than what she got.

As she hung up, Matt walks in on her in the living room, staring out at the snow-covered neighborhood. Towards the path she walked, each step heavier than the next as Shiro whispered the Devil’s act. 

“Hey, Pidgeon,” Matt quips, grabbing the remote to turn on the television. “Wanna watch the new season of Criminal Minds on Netflix? You love crime shows.”

She doesn’t say anything. She just stares, the phone still on her ear even though she can hear the line cut. As silence reigns in on the speaker, nothing emanating besides the bright background of the keypad.

“Pidge?”

She slowly lowers the phone from her ear. And as she does, she lets in a shaky breath. But no air is making its way to her lungs. No control over her muscles, her excited brain coming to a screeching halt as she drops her pile of books. For a moment, she wonders why her glasses have become dotted with droplets and steam. There is no hot water near her. No showerhead she was nearby, always one to forget to take off her glasses until the bought of steam smacks her frames.

But there is no shower. And soon she comes to realize it isn’t raining either.

She hears a cry from behind her, an arm flying out to catch her as her knees buckled. 

It can’t be true. It can’t. There is no way in Hell. Shiro better call right now and say sike. To apologize and say he made a joke in horrible taste. To fuel her with rage and take away the collapsing membrane in her chest. To cease the tears scorching her eyelids and dribbling down her cheeks.

All she can process is the overwhelming sense of despair circling her. Her brother might as well not be there, because all she can feel is dark clouds thrusting her into a neverending cyclone. 

The world might as well have shoved its hand in her chest cavity and rip out that red thing beating inside her. She wonders briefly if this is what Lance is feeling, then she is thrown on another level of pain.

Her best friend is in the hospital. And his lover--her best friend since their teen years--has been taken from her. From them. Never again will she open the door at 2am to comfort a distraught Keith, hurting from a confrontation that ended badly and thus caused for the two to eat pints of ice cream until they were sick.

Never again will she gripe to him about the dumb boys chasing after her, clearly not understanding her content with being with just herself, Keith chuckling as she rambled.

Never again will she see Lance and Keith so stupidly in love she’d proclaim the flu and go home from the sheer amount of sugar they were displaying. She would act disgusted, but truly she was filled with giddy bubbles.

She can recall the day after their first date as clear as day. She remembers the quick succession of knuckles against her house door at dawn. How Keith’s hair was rumpled from his motorcycle helmet and his shirt wrinkled from the day before. Most likely because he fell asleep in it. She scolded him for the time of day, saying no one was even alive at the time. But as he blurted out he had a date with Lance, how they went to the annual fair and spent hours on rides and talking, she couldn’t help but notice the hard glass in his eyes melt into absolute liquid. She sighed and opened her door wider for him to enter, and when he did they sat at the kitchen table with cereal and coffee in front of them, the smile Keith was working so hard to bite down gradually blowing up as he spoke more and more. 

_ “Dude, shut up,” she joked. “You’re being all mushy and gross.” _

_ “If I didn’t tell you, you’d throw a fit.” _

_ She paused. “Okay, true. But you’re paying for my dental bills.” _

And it is that very memory that does her in more. Matt can hold her all he wants. Call for their mother and father, her parents rushing in as if she has been harmed and not the people she kept so close to her. Nothing can take away this fucking nightmare.

“He’s gone!” She sobs in her brother’s shoulder. “He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s fucking gone.”

\---

_ “Need help?” Hunk asked, giving Keith a knowing smile. _

_ “Nah, I got him.” He said, adjusting Lance in his arms so they weren’t going completely numb from his weight. “Pidge you really shouldn’t have challenged him to a shot game.” _

_ “It’s not my fault he can’t hold his liquor well.” Pidge shrugged, not sorry. “Funny how the short one is better than the giant over here.” _

_ “You know he’s a lightweight.” _

_ “Technicalities.” _

_ Keith just shook his head, his train of thought interrupted by Lance patting his cheeks. He squished and pulled, Keith only allowing it because the boy was drunk off his ass and Hunk was grabbing the car since he was the one fully sober person. _

_ “Keith your face is so sooooooooffffttttt,” He slurred, smoothing out his cheeks after pulling a bunch of times. “Like…You don’t even moisturize, but they are still soft like a baby’s bottom.” _

_ Pidge hollered a laugh, clutching her stomach. “Hear that, Keith? You’re a butt.” _

_ “Keep talking and you’ll become friends with the pavement.” _

_ “Awwww come on, you know I’m joking.” She said as she poked Keith’s side, knowing he can’t do anything about it because his arms are filled with a 165 pound boy. _

_ Keith grumbled to himself, ignoring Lance’s prodding and focused on keeping his legs walking in a straight line. He wasn’t exactly sober, so being tipsy and holding a drunk Lance wasn’t the easiest thing at the moment. He loved this boy, but man did he want to drop him. _

_ Hey Keithyyyyy,” Lance said, nuzzling his face against his. “You know I love you, riiiiiight?” _

_ A smile tugged at his lips. “I’d hope so, we are dating.” _

_ “Noooooo,” he wiggled a finger at Keith, leaning back enough that Keith had to pull him back from flopping to the ground. “No, we aren’t datiiiing.” _

_ Keith frowned. “We aren’t?” _

_ “Nooooo. We are married. You’re–hic–you’re my husband.” _

_ “Oh?” _

_ “Yup.” He popped his p’s, giggling right after. “You my hubby. My handsome husband, even with a mullet.” _

_ “Even drunk he won’t let go of your poor fashion choices.” Pidge quipped. _

_ “SHHHHHHH,” Lance said to Pidge, moving to put a finger to her lips by standing up, but ultimately staggered to the ground. Keith lent out a hand, the poor drunk boy messily getting back up. But he kept his eyes on Pidge, covering his mouth with the side of his hand, though Keith can definitely hear him. “You can’t let him know I like his hair. Shhhh, little gremlin.” _

_ “Oh my God.” _

_ “Please tell me you recorded that.” _

_ “I’m recording now. Hey Lance, what did you say?” _

_ Lance repeated what he said, a little louder than normal and unaware the camera was on him for future blackmail/boasting material. Lance was always on Keith’s ass about his hair, and now that he has proof Lance liked it, he could shut the boy up when he attempts to lug him to the hairdresser. _

_ “Hey Keeeith?” _

_ “Yes?” _

_ “You’re the best husband ever. The best.You deserve the best husband award. Is there a husband award? Keith, stop laughing, this is important! I need to nominate you! You are the best, you will even beat–hic–Shiro.” _

_ Lance continued on his drunken proclamations, even when Hunk arrived with the car. Even as they drove back home, Lance snuggled next to Keith and covering him with kisses. Pidge gagged in the front seat, begging Hunk to go faster before she died from romance exposure. And it didn’t help that Keith was okay with it, smiling and laughing as Lance landed a kiss on his nose. _

_ But Hunk and Pidge secretly liked it, because they knew the two were happy. That Hunk didn’t have to see his friend sulking about his first love, who broke up with him because they just weren’t working out. That Pidge didn’t have to worry about Keith, hardly giving the dating life a try because he figured he was better alone than with someone who valued him in a way he should be. The two were perfect for each other, filling the holes in their lives, despite their rocky start. Lance envied Keith’s talents, now he showered him with praise. Keith resented Lance’s critiques, now basking in his presence and soaking up every moment they were in each other’s arms. _

_ While Lance or Keith did not propose, they had no doubt they were going to get married. _

\---

“Gone? Who’s gone?” Matt asks gently. “Did something happen to Keith?”

She has no voice. She can only let out sobs, barely managing a couple nods before she curls in on herself. Her mother has a hand on her shoulder, and her father began to reach for her phone to ask Shiro what he said. But Pidge quickly snatches his hand and shakes her head, begging him not to allow the words Shiro choked out to repeat. 

By the time she is able to fully speak, they guessed what has happened. They did not need her to explain in full, holding her in their arms to let her know they will fight alongside her in this tragedy. They never left her alone, not even when she made the horrible phone call to Hunk. She promised Shiro she would. He could hardly keep his composure with his call to her, his voice tight and rough with raw emotion. 

No doubt Adam was beside him, being the single anchor to Shiro’s sanity. Pidge gives Shiro credit for holding as long as he did on the phone. If not for her being quiet and keeping words to a minimum, she would have opened more wounds in his heart. 

Night falls, Pidge requesting Matt to stay in her room that night. Her bed is too small for them, leaving the siblings to sleep on the floor despite Matt telling her she can sleep in her bed. She shakes her head, grabs a picture of her and Keith sitting alongside a slew of other photos on her desk, and lays down with a fluffy blanket and pillow. 

Their hands never release, and neither does her hold on the picture settle atop her chest.

\---

“Shiro?” Adam calls. Shiro blinks, his eyes staring at the phone. Pidge’s contact displays on the screen, his thumb pressing down on the home button and directing him to the home page. 

He doesn’t dare click it off. If he does, he knows he will be met with the pair of violet eyes alongside his dark ones, the lock screen set to the moment Keith showed him the ring Lance gave him. Paired with the loving selfie he has of him and Adam, he has the two people he loves most in the world.

Or should he say, loved? 

He is still trying to take it in. To register to reality his little brother is gone. 

His little brother...the boy he vividly recalls taking in as a foster. The kid who clutched onto his hippos, eyes dim with quiet acceptance. He spoke few words back then, Shiro’s parents worried to the core if they would be able to help him. If he would open up, give them a chance to be the parents he was looking for. They could never replace his real family. The least they could do was be different from all the other families that cast him out. Who were only in it for the money.

He can also recall the day of his adoption, when Keith smiled his first ever large grin. It was rare for him to smile like that. Before Lance. He was fifteen going on sixteen and was sure he wouldn’t be adopted since he was an older kid. 

Yet there they were, signing the final papers and Keith’s room all set up for him to permanently sleep in. 

Adoption papers one moment. A death certificate the next.

“Shiro?” Adam calls again, his phone going black. Shiro slowly meets Adam’s eyes, as if he doesn’t recognize him. Doesn’t recognize the place they are at. Who are the people in the white coats again? Why are there so many different colored scrubs? Why does it smell strongly of antiseptic? 

He is frozen, a deer in headlights as his surroundings blur into indeterminate shapes.

It takes Adam touching his leg to snap him out of whatever revery he was entering. For some reason--be it comfort in Adam’s presence or his control finally snapping--he lets out a shudder of a breath. He dips his head against Adam’s neck, his shoulders shaking and his phone clattering to the ground. Adam moves for a tight hug, angling Shiro out of his shoulder and into his chest. He cradles his head, brushing his fingers through his hair and down his back. It allows Shiro to be vulnerable. To let everything out. He has been strong for the past couple of hours. From the moment he got the phone call to him seeing and confirming the body is in fact Keith, he held strong. He was sad, yes, but around Lance and the doctors, he maintained the essence of a soldier. He was in the military for some time. It was drilled into him to be “unaffected” in times of crisis.

But this is no battlefield. This is the death of his brother, and Adam makes sure he doesn’t take all those feelings and shove them aside until he burst. 

“It’s okay,” Adam coaxes. “I’m here. I’m here.”

“They were going to be married.” Shiro says, his voice breaking.

“I...I know.” Adam has to fight against the lump in his throat. 

“He wanted to be something. Become someone.” Shiro continues, his voice altering from strained to full wobble. “He was going to be my best man at our wedding. He had so much to live for, and the world took it _ away _.”

Adam lays his head atop of Shiro’s.

“And Lance. Fuck, Lance loved him with all his heart.”

“He will pull through.”Adam began softly. “It’s going to be hard for you and him. You both were his family; the ones he went to when shit hit the fan. But he wouldn’t want you guys mourning long.”

“Easier said than done, Adam.” Shiro says with no particular emotion. “He was my brother. You don’t just get over that because it’s what he wanted.”

“I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m saying it’s what needs to happen. In time. For you guys to not lose yourselves.”

“We are already lost, Adam.” 

Adam doesn’t reply, aware it is the grief talking. A couple of minutes passed, Shiro’s crying subsiding enough for him to pull away. He picks his phone back up, shoving it in his pocket and folding his hands in on themselves. He is hunched over, his elbows on his knees and eyes on the too white tile when he spoke.

“I hate to say this, but...” He pauses, going through the words in his head. “I don’t think...I don’t think we can get married at the time we planned. Not when--not--”

“Not when there is a funeral to plan.” Adam finishes, his gaze kind and understanding. “When you need to heal.”

Shiro nods, apologetic. “I want to get married. I want us to be together. But...but right now I can’t stomach the thought of being joyful when I--and our friends--are suffering. You make me happy, Adam. So, so happy. But right now I feel like a piece of my soul has been ripped apart. Like the world has done a sudden 180. When--”

Adam puts a hand on Shiro’s, the one wrapped with his engagement ring from a couple months ago. Everyone had been there when Shiro popped the question, Keith joking they were going to have a joint wedding. Followed by a Lance proclaiming he isn’t sharing the date because he “wants him and Keith to be the only pro dancers on the floor”. 

Shiro looks back at him, surprised. As he did, Adam just gives him a sad smile and pulls him in, refusing to release him. 

“That’s okay. I know what you mean. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I do know I’ll hold onto you until the end of the line. Whether we get married six months from now or five years, it doesn’t matter. So long as we are together.”

For those few moments, Shiro allows himself to be happy. It is a sliver, but enough.

The journey will be hard. The funeral will be the most painful experience Shiro will have ever since he lost his arm. No doubt Lance will be in twice as much pain.

But the least he can do is have a smidge of hope for himself and those Keith loved when he was alive.

\---

[ Come yell at me on tumblr! ](https://stardust-and-blades.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm waiting for you all to spam me with "how the fuck is this going to end happily keith's fucking dead"  
trust me i have a way  
>:3
> 
> Please leave a comment! I want to hear what you guys think :) Did I earn my angst badge yet?  
and hit the kudos/bookmark button, because I will definitely keep on updating this as much as I did ANSS. School is coming to an end meaning MORE WRITING WHOOP


	5. Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is back home. He is hit by memories of the past, and by the desire to wish upon a star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *aims bazooka* YEET
> 
> Enjoy, readers :)

Lance’s alarm blared, and he debated for a good five seconds if he should shove his face in a pillow and ignore it, or chuck it across the room.

It was a Monday. Another new week, another start to work. Being a marine biologist wasn’t that bad. Lance loved his job and how he got to travel, as well as stay in one place when conducting research or taking care of the aquariums in the city. He loved animals and a nice portion of his coworkers--save for that one old guy who refused to listen to anything Lance said.

Lance just really hated mornings. Especially, at 6 a.m.

Lance groaned, forcing his legs to hike over the ledge of the bed, his face still stuffed inside the pillow. He could call in sick. Say he got a bad case of food poisoning. Maybe convince his supervisor to give him time and arrive at noon instead of a time when no one exists. But that would mean the animals would be affected by his absence, and unless he was dying his moral compass refused to let him neglect them for even a second.

It took him a total of ten minutes to make his body fully stand up. This was why he set his alarm an hour earlier than needed, because he is weak to the comfort of his sheets and the man he snuggled with.

But said man was not in the room. A question mark floated above Lance’s head, wondering why he did not hear the shower going. Keith was one to wake up first. It’s a quirk of his--and partial insomnia. When he did wake up, the first thing he did was gather his clothes, kiss Lance on top of his head, and crank on the hot water. It woke him up, and by the time he was done Lance would be in the kitchen making breakfast.

This time, however, there was no shower. Lance yawned, rubbed his eyes, and cracked open the bedroom door. Blue orbs scoured for the tuft of black hair, and sure enough the sweet smell of brewing coffee hit his nose. He internally thanked the heavens--he needed some coffee stat. Or cuban coffee, but that one is not meant for the faint of heart. Or tiny bodies like Pidge, who drank a whole pot and was jittering like a McDonalds play toy for several hours.

Lance walked over to the kitchen, stretching out his limbs and embracing the pop of his back. Soft humming weaved around his ears, coaxing him further into kitchen. As he leaned on the edge of the doorway, he stared at Keith’s back, his hair in a ponytail and a pan in one hand as he buttered up the metal. Keith didn’t turn around, but Lance could hear his smile.

“Someone isn’t happy to be awake.” Keith commented, cracking an egg.

“I wasn’t, but the view changed my mind.” Lance replied. “To what do I owe the pleasure of you cooking? Last time I checked I made way better eggs than you.”

“Insult my cooking and I’m chucking your half in the garbage disposal.”

“Aww, you know I kid.” Lance snuck up behind him, wrapping an arm around his torso and settled his chin on Keith’s shoulder. He watched his fiance make the food, adding pepper and ham to the mix, as well as stuffing two pieces of bread in the toaster. He moved with ease, Lance’s affection not slowing him down in the slightest. He kissed Lance’s cheek in greeting, tossing and flipping the eggs as they transformed from gooey liquid to a firm yellow substance. 

“But seriously, why are you cooking? Shouldn’t you be heading to the dojo now?”

“No,” Keith said. “Not until later. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to make you breakfast before you woke up.”

“Kolivan still pushing you to take a vacation?”

“He says I work too much.”

“You do work too much.”

“The bills need to be paid, Lance.” He patted Lance’s cheek. “And to own a dojo I need experience. Kolivan is trying to be some weird dad substitute, I don’t know.”

“Nah, He’s looking out for you. Remember when you didn’t sleep for two weeks and almost passed out in the middle of a lesson?”

Keith grumbled, the toast popping up for butter and the eggs fully cooked. He reached for a plate. “Nope. Don’t remember, didn’t happen.”

“He called for a break and as soon as you sat down you were out like a light.”

“I was resting my eyes.” He replied, buttering the toast.

“Dude, I had to pick you up. You looked bad. Like, really bad. Your face was paler than usual and I’m pretty sure you tripped over your feet five times walking to the car.” Lance could recall the day as clear as crystal. Keith was always quick on his feet. Faster than Lance, who had longer legs than him. He would be alert of all his surroundings, one easy to dodge a ball heading for his back. But that day, Lance not only had to pick him up, but lug him to the apartment. He fell asleep in the passenger seat, and when they arrived home, Keith was barely able to support himself. Kolivan demanded Keith take the next day off and rest his body before coming in again.

“I don’t know who is more of a worry-wart. Kolivan, Shiro, or you. It’s not like I was dying.”

Keith gathered the plates, prepped to set them on the counter for Lance and him to eat. He nudged Lance away gently, commenting he would spill everything if he kept latching himself to Keith’s back. Lance groaned as Keith chuckled, the later suggesting he grabbed some coffee or juice. 

“You wound me, samurai. I was all nice and cozy, now I’m cold.” Lance hugged himself and pouted over the loss of Keith’s heat.

Keith smiled, absolute puddy when it comes to Lance. No one else made him a pushover except his fiance. As a way to alleviate Lance’s slightly silly reaction to Keith walking away, he did not hesitate to kiss him, his hand with the ring pulling his chin towards his. It was soft. Slow and loving, letting Lance know Keith was all his. Their spark could never be blown out by drastic occurrences to trivial affairs. Years had flown by, yet Keith continued to take his breath away.

Of course, in a Keith fashion, he reached behind Lance, opened a pantry, and snagged a mug.

“Never let your guard down, loverboy.” He said with a cocky grin. He had Lance’s favorite mug, one Lance didn’t share. Lance squawked, reaching for it.

“Hey, give it back!”

“Not a chance.”

“Why you--” Lance chased after Keith, the other laughing and running about the apartment, sneaking away from Lance as soon as he was close enough.

By the time Lance caught him, they were collapsed on the couch, out of breath and giggling to their heart’s content. The food was cold when they returned to it, but they didn’t mind. They heated it back up, Lance deciding it wouldn’t hurt for Keith to use his mug just this once, and talked and laughed until Lance had to leave for work. 

It was a delicious breakfast. Keith wasn’t a bad cook.

Lance wouldn’t mind waking up to this often.

His boss asked why he was excessively smiley. Lance just said he had a very good morning. The fact he would be spending the rest of his life with that man made his chest crackle with warmth, a fire ceasing the winter he had dealt with for many years without Keith.

\-----

After Lance was discharged from the hospital and given enough prescriptions to numb his entire body from the pain, his mother took him back home. She and Shiro helped in guiding him up the stairs, his good leg in a cast and his ribs wrapped snug. The side effects of the strong meds making him tired, he plopped on the bed and was out like a light.

He wakes up to the smell of coffee, and for a moment he is excited to get up. Coffee meant breakfast, and breakfast meant he gets--

Wait.

Lance blinks away the remainder of his sleep, noticing the arm he uses to wipe the sand from the corners of his eyes are wrapped up. He lifts his arm as high as he can, staring at the gauze. Staring at the threads that, while intact, do not mirror the destruction of his soul.

As if in a trance, he stands up, opens the bedroom door, and made his way to the kitchen. The steady beat of his heart quickens, his freed hand shaking in anticipation, holding off on the despair reawakening from its nest. He waits for the low hum of a boy. For the hiss of him breathing in, burning his finger on the pan due to negligence. The tuft of black hair poking in and out of the fridge. The clank of two cups being taken out of the top cupboard, Lance always offering to get them upon entrance because he was taller.

For the comment “good morning, sleeping beauty”, to be said in jest as the boy turned to give Lance a peck on the lips.

The end of his nightmare.

But no. Once he enters the kitchen, he sees brown curls with grey interweaved, a spanish song from his childhood, and the smell of sugar. His mother catches him at the corner of her eye, smiling broadly and motioning for him to sit down. Lance sat down, numb. Shocked. Still waiting for pads of feet to trail behind him. For the chair beside him to be pulled back and a yawn to break the silence. But there is nothing besides the sizzling of the pan and the overbearing weight of a ring against his chest.

It wasn’t too long ago he had breakfast with his mother and Keith, Lance’s mother insisting she made her signature chocolate chip pancakes and stash of cuban coffee.

She served a smaller mug of coffee to Keith, predicting he wouldn’t be as used to the kick as Lance. Keith being Keith, snagged Lance’s coffee in one sweep, not allowing the other to process it fast enough before he chugged the entire thing. Lance had gaped, Keith shrugging at his appalled expression and said along the lines of “he loved a challenge”.

_ “Do you realize what you have done!?” Lance said, hsi eyes bugging out.  _

_ “I drank coffee.” _

_ “Dude, you’re part korean, not an alien who can handle intense coffee!” _

_ “Bold of you to assume I’m not an alien. Or at least mothman.” _

_ Lance smacked his head against the table. “Oh my God I’m marrying a chaotic idiot.” _

_ “More like a badass needing to wake up bright and early.” Keith reached for his mug next, but Lance smacked his hand atop of it. _

_ “Uh, no. That’s enough for you, Daredevil.” _

The memory is clear and fun, one to make Lance laugh when he thought of it and shared it with his friends. But for the moment he is in, he cannot crack so much as a quirk of his lips. He pushes the mug away, hating how it stood alone. 

The food his mother makes smells wonderful. But Lance cannot bathe in its nostalgic essence. He cannot feel hungry or excited for it. There is a gaping hole in his chest. And in the spot next to him, the seat cold and the table bare as a plate is set in front of him.

“Mijo, you need to eat.”

“I’m not that hungry.”

She places her hands on her hips, sympathetic but stern. “Son, your injuries are bad and will start hurting more than they do now when the medication wears off. You have to take them with at least something in your stomach.”

He huffs, aware his mother will not leave him alone until he does as she says. He takes the fork and brings the food to his mouth, chewing at a slow pace. She said to eat. Not eat fast.

He passes on the coffee, but grabs some water instead to quell some of his mother’s worry. It is quiet as they eat together, a somber energy descending on the pair compared to their past breakfast times. They would usually gab about the family or Lance’s job. Even more so the wedding as the date made its way home. Keith would smile as they talked of the wedding, his gaze never leaving a starstruck Lance and excited mother. 

_ “What are you looking at?” Lance asked, mouth full of eggs. _

_ “You.” Keith said, chin sitting on his palm. _

_ Lance rolled his eyes. “Okay, Romeo.” _

_ “Mmm, I think you’re more of the Romeo person.” Keith commented. “You’re incredibly dramatic.” _

_ “Ooooh? Does this mean we are starcrossed lovers, destined for me to steal you in the night and for our most trusted friends to help us elope?”  _

_ “I’m pretty sure the play is a tragedy that results in six people dying.” Keith deadpanned. _

_ “Wow okay one of us hates fun.” Lance stuck his tongue out, denying Keith’s answer and opting for his brighter one. _

_ Keith responded by slathering on some whip cream from his pancakes onto Lance’s tongue. _

Yes. Those mornings were a joy for Lance. A treat for waking up at the break of dawn.

He wishes he could go back for five minutes. Five minutes of happiness to temporarily dissolve the lifetime of sadness he foresees in his future. 

Five minutes to give him one last hug, one last kiss.

But it is daytime, and unless the sky decides to suddenly start raining stars, he will be left with his thoughts and ghosts. 

It doesn’t take long for his eyes to start burning once again, the hole in his chest still raw and bleeding from the accident. It has been days, but while the saying “time heals all wounds” can be correct, it doesn’t mean it is fast. It may scab over. It may fester and turn into an infection. Lance doesn’t know. All he can do is swallow the rest of his food, drink some water, and head back to bed. His mother asked if he wanted to run errands with her, Lance taking that as a subtle way for her to get him out of the house and breathe in some fresh air. Maybe crack a smile or two.

But he waves her away, saying the medication is kicking in--to which it is--and that he wants to rest like the doctors said.

He has a funeral to plan. He needs all his strength to get through the wedding cancellations and prep the funeral home and cemetery. Shiro will have a hand in it, he is the closest Keith had to a family. Shiro went so far as to offer Lance full control over the funeral arrangements out of concern it would harm Lance. But while Lance is hurting in every sense, he would feel worse if he didn’t have a hand in making Keith’s final resting place a good one. 

A soft, loving send off. If Lance couldn’t give Keith happiness in the form of dual rings and a promise to live out their days in stupid love, the least Lance can do is fill his goodbye with roses and memories. 

Lance shuts his bedroom door and falls back on the bed. It takes him a couple of moments to get semi-comfortable--his leg and arm, as well as his chest, are bound in gauze.

The bed is too big. Too spacious. He is used to sleeping on only one half. It was practically a sin for him to take Keith’s side--his love claiming the spot where he could stick a leg out when it was hot and risk the demon under their bed snatching him up. Lance would cover his feet back up, more so when they got engaged. He claimed he “isn’t sharing his love”.

Keith would stick his leg out anyway. He was a defiant little shit. Lance would pout, but Keith would kiss him on the cheek and say he only had one love of his life.

He turned Lance into a puddle.

What is he now, besides a man without half his soul?

Lance scoots to his side, ignoring the blatant fact he has the whole bed to himself. He shuts his eyes, trying to let the creeping drowsiness of the medicine to take over. To freeze his body and mind and plunge him into make-believe realms. 

It is a fitful battle, but he eventually falls asleep.

\-----

_ It was Lance’s first day at college, and he was nervous. _

_ From what Matt said, it is a lot different from high school. The one thing similar to high school is the professors could be a hit or miss, depending on the class and your own personal preference. Lance was either the favorite or the class clown, depending on the subject and teacher who hated kids, yet still worked at a school.  _

_ Lance never understood those teachers. If you hate kids so much, don’t work with them. It’s that simple. _

_ Lance glanced down at his watch, jogging with a handful of heavy textbooks and his schedule printed out on top of the books. First class was a general: stats class. He didn’t want to take stats, but it was either that or calculus. Personally, he wasn’t good at either. Regardless, he had to take a math course, no matter how stupid it was.  _

_ Upon entering the packed classroom, he scoured the area for an open seat. The front was taken, no doubt to those who cannot see in the back. And the middle was crowded with various groups, friends most likely seeing friends and talking up a storm; declaring who is who’s partner in the future and whether they were still going to drop the class for another professor or not.  _

_ Lance saw some free seats in the back, a gaping hole among a sea of socializing humans. Lance saw no one he knew yet, and the only other person in said section was a boy with dark hair, a black leather jacket, and earbuds stuffed in his ears as he looked over his phone. _

_ If it wasn’t for the mullet giving off teen angst, angry vibes, Lance might have introduced himself. But due to his intimidating appearance and his natural glare as he looked around the room, Lance took an internal note to sit a couple seats away from him. He looked like a bad boy. A bad boy who could break Lance’s arm in one go. _

_ The boy didn’t notice him. Didn’t pay him any mind until Hunk came barrelling through the door, the clock a second away from class officially starting. Lance laughed at Hunk’s move towards Lance, Hunk apologizing and asking every person on his way up to let him through.  _

_ “Did you mistake the art building for the math one?” Lance asked. _

_ Hunk let out a sigh, settling in his seat by Lance. The professor hadn’t arrived yet. _

_ “No, me and Pidge got talking about our favorite show ending and then we got distracted.” _

_ “Dude, Avatar ended years ago.” _

_ “Hush Lance, I’m still in mourning.” _

_ “Go watch Game of Thrones.” _

_ Hunk pushed out his lower lip in a pout. “No! I don’t want to see the dragons die.” _

_ “They don’t die if you close your eyes.” Lance teased. _

_ “Oh you would--” Hunk raised his eyebrows and leaned forward, staring past Lance. “Holy shit.” _

_ Lance frowned. “What?” He glanced over. “What’s so interesting about Mr. Bad boy over there.” _

_ “That’s Keith!” _

_ Lance cocked his head. “Who is Keith?” _

_ Hunk blinked at Lance, waiting for him to say ‘just kidding!’. But as Lance continued to stare at him in confusion, Hunk shook himself out of his funk. _

_ “Keith. Keith kogane. You know, the guy Pidge mentions? The one who is related to Shiro, who won a gold medal in the olympics?” _

_ Lance’s jaw immediately hung over. “No fucking way.” _

_ “WAY. Pidge is friends with them because of Matt. She has been talking about them for only the whole summer.” _

_ “I thought she was trying to fool me like she did when she said she knew Keanu Reeves.” _

_ “You are gullible.” _

_ “Et tu, brute?” Lance threw his pencil at him. Lance snuck another peak at this Keith, the boy removing his earbuds and opening his laptop as the professor ran in. There were apologies, introductions, and the beginning of the rundown over the course’s syllabus. Lance didn’t really need to pay attention. The first day is syllabus day, the second most pointless class period alongside the one before Christmas. _

_ Some attend, some don’t. Lance does because he was a good noodle. But though he was a good noodle, that didn’t stop him from whispering to Hunk. There were about a hundred or more students in the class, who would notice? _

_ “So what’s so big about this Keith guy?” _

_ Hunk raised an eyebrow. “Besides Shiro? Best known fighter at school. Both on the team and off. Knows korean, popular with the ladies in terms of looks, but he plays for the other team. Oh! Better at math than you--” _

_ “Hey I thought this wasn’t a ‘roast Lance day’.” _

_ Hunk giggled under his breath and nudged Lance. “I kid. But yeah, he’s a pretty big deal, besides the disciplinary issues.” _

_ That caught Lance’s attention. “What do you mean?” _

_ Hunk shrugged, it not really mattering to him. “Some students and faculty say he has problems. Mostly with authority, but...problems. Pidge doesn’t like the rumors, it’s all bullshit if you ask me.” _

_ Lance opened his mouth to say something, but the professor, who suddenly took an interest in the back, called out to them. Hunk and Lance shut up, but as the professor turned to resume his speech, Lance’s eyes snuck a peak at Keith. _

_ He was staring right back at Lance. No doubt he heard Hunk and Lance’s conversation. Lance swallowed, half expecting the guy to kick him under the table or challenge him to a duel via note throwing. _

_ He narrowed his dark eyes, strangely bordering on a hue of violet in the sun. If Lance wasn’t seized by fear, he probably would have complimented him. _

_ But as he stared deep into Lance’s soul, Lance could only think of how much he wished he didn’t have class with Keith. Wasn’t under his scrutiny, daring Lance to say anything the students were repeating on end. To live up to his expectations that Lance was like everyone else, judging Keith before they got to know him.  _

_ However, despite the adrenaline kicking in and his ears heating up, Lane leaned on his arm and rested his head on his fist, smirking at Keith. Goading him. Daring him to do something. _

_ Keith didn’t look away. Instead, he raised a fist and slowly, gave Lance the bird. _

_ Lance gasped. Class was dismissed early on the account of the syllabus being short and their assignments and tests were on it, letting Keith promptly get up and leave as soon as the action was completed. He shoved an earbud in, ignoring Lance’s reaction. _

_ “Hey! Come back here! Lance hollered. “Face me like a man, coward!” _

_ The remainder of the whipped their heads towards Lance, looking at him as if he were insane. Lance stood firm, going so far as to ignore Hunk covering his face in embarrassment. _

_ It was quiet. They waited, most likely for Keith to be the heathen everyone believed him to be and jump on the desks, prepped to fight. _

_ But Keith just shook his head and kept walking. He did not show care towards the students or Lance. He just kept going, no matter the shouts Lance made. _

_ Lance hoped--and wished--for another encounter. If to just prove he wasn’t scared of Keith. _

_ “Lance, the hell did you do?” _

_ “Found a rival. Or nemesis, whichever will claim me as a hero about ready to take down this villainous Keith Kogane.” _

_ “...Lance, he’s awkward, not evil.” _

_ “Says Pidge,” Lance said. “But I say he is a villain, and I’m going to face him if it’s the last thing I do.” _

\----

Lance gasps awake in a cold sweat. He sits up and searches the empty room. It is midnight, the numbers flashing brightly in the dark. His mother in the guest room, her small snores echoing through the apartment.

It was a dream. A memory, actually, from the first time Keith and him exchanged glances.

How he wishes he could go back to those innocent times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take a shot every time Keith is a heathen *gets alcohol poisoning*
> 
> I promise I'm working on updating weekly I just g r a d u a t e d LET ME LIVE
> 
> Please leave a kudos, comment, and bookmark! I love hearing from you guys, especially if I tear out your heart and stomp on it *gets smacked*


	6. Reservations and Cancellations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weddings take time, but so does a funeral. Shiro pushes for Lance to rest, but Lance is not one to back down from taking responsibility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 6 is heeeeere! Sorry this took so long, I wanted to make the update longer for the big wait. Brace yourselves, there will be flashbacks oOPS

Lance smacked a booklet on the table, shaking Keith’s coffee cup and scaring him away from the screen of his laptop.

“Guess what I found,” Lance said, bouncing. They were at a Barnes and Noble near their apartment, the two taking a day to explore the city. It was one of those days where they both had off from work, unexpected but welcomed. Keith had to do some quick work for the dojo thanks to Kolivan texting him in the middle of the day, but he promised it wouldn’t be long. In the meantime, Lance took advantage of the opportunity and scoured the magazine section. They were in the early stages of their engagement, but better to begin thinking of the wedding now than to put it off. 

Keith took the magazine, a smile tugging on his lips. “For the wedding?”

“No, for our next shot as clowns in a carnival. Of course for our wedding!”

“Did you just call me a fool in your own weird way?”

Lance shrugged. “Mayhaps.”

“Wow.”

“Anyway!” Lance took the magazine and flipped through it. “Check out all these tuxes. The white and grey don’t look so bad, since your boy will be the center of attention like the bride. Minus the veil and maid of honor.”

“Tell me again why you don’t want a maid of honor or best man?”

Lance dramatically sighed. “Sparks too much jealousy and pettiness. Trust me, when you’re in my family, if someone has a semblance of bragging rights they will tear each other apart in any shape or form. Especially the little ones.”

“Those little ones are going to be our flower girl and ring bearer.” Keith said.

“That’s only because no one would fight a four year old.”

“Don’t underestimate Pidge. She once had to deal with an angry12 year old on Overwatch because she sniped him three times and sent him crying to his mother.”

“Ah yes, the Pidgeon in her natural habitat of destroying 12 year olds and the patriarchy. I think she is scarier than you.”

“Just because I sleep with you doesn’t mean I wouldn’t kill you onsight in Overwatch.” Keith grinned at Lance’s gaping mouth. “What? If anyone is going to take you out, it’s me.”

Lance clutched his heart. “Top ten anime betrayals!”

“God, you’re such a weeb.”

“And you’re a party pooper,” Lance snapped the laptop shut, Keith’s progress on his work whisked away in exchange for the smug bastard in front of him. “Kolivan can handle the rest of it, now I would very much like to have my fiance’s attention for our dream wedding.”

Keith rolled his eyes, used to Lance’s demand to be in the spotlight. Yet he still smiled, unable to be mad at the man who woke him up with kisses and could make him laugh in the darkest parts of the forest in his head. Lance was itching to express his desires, and though Keith was trying to be studious, he couldn’t forget the rebellious side of him that revels in ignoring tasks and following his gut.

“Okay, okay. What has got you so giddy?”

“Besides being betrothed?” Lance said, flaunting his ring as if Keith was the one who did the asking, not the other way around. “Well since you asked I’ll show you.”

Keith leaned in, glancing at the pages Lance flipped through. As he did, he spoke. “You know how we were debating the color scheme and stuff?”

“Yeah, didn’t you want red and blue, since those are our favorite colors?”

Yeah!” I got thinking, when you mix red and blue, what do you get?”

“...Purple...?” Keith said, sounding more like a question than an actual answer. That’s Keith for you. He was easy to confuse when not straight to the point. It made him a lot cuter in Lance’s eyes. The tiny furrow of his brows. The tilt of his head. The shine in his dark irises that gave out only a sense of curiosity and wishing to understand.

Lance straightened out the pages and flipped around so Keith can see it fully. “The tuxes I can’t see as a different color besides the grey scale, but the button ups...Why don’t we wear purple for the reception? It’s symbolic, in a way. Plus the color is gorgeous.”

“Hmm...” Keith leaned against his fist, surveying the picture of the different shades. “So we wear blue and red during the wedding, then when we are supposed to dance and celebrate, we have these shirts on instead?”

“Yup! It would be perfect. The fairy lights, music in the background, the flowers dangling from the ceiling as if they were blessings from heaven. The whole nine yards. What do you say? Can we?”

“Hmmm I don’t know...” Keith tapped his lips, humming to himself and completely ignoring Lance’s growing puppy dog eyes. Lance knew Keith and him could make an entrance. Absolutely surprise their friends and family with the switch. It was a simple change, but one meant to make their message clear: they are one. Soulmates who fought tooth and nail to be together. Enemies turned lovers. A sign anyone--just about anyone--could gain the happiness they were to achieve in so short a time period. 

“Keeeeith, now you’re just being mean.” Lance pouted, not appreciating Keith’s silence. “I’ll go marry Hunk, at least he loves me and doesn’t tease my fantasies.”

Keith laughed. “Okay, purple it is. But,” He lifted the page, displaying the very, VERY large price point the magazine made clear. “We are going to need to downgrade a little. We aren’t millionaires, and this wedding is costing us a fortune with just thinking of it.”

Keith wasn’t wrong. Suits were expensive as is. The entire wedding was a huge financial process. The movies make it seem so easy, but in reality you’d need to take a loan out in this economy to have a piece of the dream wedding you had in mind. Teenage girls (and maybe boys) could manufacture the most beautiful celebration filled with teardrop crystals raining down from the ceiling, extravagant dresses for the honored maids and bride made out of silk and chiffon. Men’s suits tailored by the best seamstress, crisp and breathing with renewity. A cake high enough to rival Mount Everest, shimmering with edible sugar crystals and designs taking after the artist work of old italian carvers. Maybe a horse-drawn carriage prepped to whisk away the happy couple to their honeymoon, as did the prince with Cinderella.

But those kinds of weddings were meant for reality television and insanely rich politicians. It was okay though, for Lance and Keith. Having a simple wedding with their friends and family was enough. So long as Lance gets the music he wants and the vows said on Varadero Beach, he would be happy. The shirts could be made out of cheap cotton and the cake two bland tiers. What mattered was the moment. The last few seconds where they say “I do” and they enter their new life as husbands.

Yes, cheap is fine as long as Lance gets to be blissfully happy for the rest of his years.

“I’m sure Shay knows a few places where we can score. You know her, always able to find a couple of gems when she’s thrifting.” Lance said.

“We can always commission her,” Keith suggested, a lightbulb going off in his head. “She makes her own clothes, and from what Hunk says she’s affordable in her trade. Better than going to...” Keith squinted at the magazine. “Uh...Altean bridal?”

“Hey, I was bored and you were doing your budget thingy on the computer.” He took the magazine and put it back, grabbing Keith’s hand as he returned. “Now, why don’t we continue the date we were having before killjoy Kolivan barrelled in?”

“You had me at date.” Keith smiled, his laptop put away in his bag and the two men running out the bookstore for their next destination. 

They had a wonderful date. One filled with exploring the city and ending with a romantic dinner, courtesy of Keith saving up for the best restaurant in town. It was the least he could do, since Lance proposed before he could, and that they hadn’t been on a real date in too long of time. With work and the wedding consuming most of their time, their days off were consisting of premade plans. By the end, they were tired, beat, and close to falling asleep on the floor upon passing the door’s threshold. Shift after shift, night after night, they worked until their limbs are jelly and their minds slow.

But even then, they made the best of it. Ordered take out when they weren’t in the mood to cook. Conked out on the living room floor, too weak to make it to the bedroom and content with the temporary setback of their spines aching in the morning. Casted a blanket over the other if one was late coming home, lifting them up to sleep on a soft mattress. Lance was the one being late many times, mostly because anything could go wrong with the animals he cared for. He had to be there in case of an emergency. Keith understood, for he too can be late coming home, engrossed in the runnings of the dojo and Kolivan’s all too long lectures. Granted Keith was the one doing stupid shit or not taking care of himself properly, but technicalities. Lance always laughed whenever he walked in on said lectures, Keith demanding silence from his fiance.

They lived apart sometimes, but in the end were together. 

Always together.

Always.

\-----

Lance has to get up. He has to move. Has to change out of the pajamas he has been wearing for a week. He has to talk to Shiro. Talk to Hunk and Kolivan, get the funeral in gear before Keith is left too long in the morgue. He has to get Keith out. Bring him home instead of leaving him in such a cold place.

A lonely place. A soulless room, forever encased in ice and lack of human care.

Yes there were doctors. Yes, they promised to hold him until all preparations were made. But Lance cannot handle him being stuck there for another day. For another week. Lance indirectly...he caused...Keith is gone. Lance needs to make up for him being away from home for many days. He doesn’t care about the cost to transport a body to a mortuary being high--he wants Keith in a better place. Less sterile. Less cold. Less...Lance doesn’t know. He just knows his stomach churns at the thought of Keith being encased in a metal drawer.

His mother is out for the time being, which is not common anymore. She has been mad with worry, checking up on Lance every two hours since the accident, thinking the absolute worst. Afraid he would be there one second, gone the next, just like Keith. Lance has been secluded; hardly talking to his friends and sleeping the sun and moon away. He emerged when he had to go to the bathroom and take his medication, otherwise he was locked away in his own prison. In a haze of copper grief and fuzzy, nonsensical dreams.

Hunk has called well close a hundred times. Pidge, nearing the number as word got out of Lance’s state. Lance has been in contact with Shiro, but even then there the conversations were scarce. Shiro, being the brother by law and therefore the one to claim the body and proceed with the funeral arrangements, relented in involving Lance in the process. Their calls were to figure out who did what, when, and where. To determine the cost total, and figure out how to transfer the funds meant for the wedding for something grim. 

At first, Shiro didn’t want Lance to have a hand in it. Didn’t want him to so much as think about the funeral. To utter the words “deceased”, “death”, “dearly departed”, or “body”. Lance knew it was out of good intentions. Knew it was because Lance loved Keith so much, adored him with all his being, that Shiro took it upon himself to protect what was left of his brother. Which was his love for Lance. Shiro knew Keith like the back of his hand, and if he were around to say so, he would tell Lance not to hurt. And that is what he tried to do. Protect him from the sad reality of the accident.

Shield him from the rest of the bombs and bullets life was going to throw at him.

Lance wouldn’t have it.

He felt broken. Feels broken. He might as well have had his spine snapped in half and his chest explode. He could hardly stand, and could hardly breathe without a panic attack flitting through his thoughts. He was in pain, but he wasn’t rendered useless. He wanted to be there for Keith’s memorial. Wants to make his sendoff, at the very least, full of love and beauty. To exchange their rings for lilies and roses. To make sure his wake is filled with the gentleness he showed Lance. To be entered with some smiles, though he was sure hearts would be bleeding. For him to not be sent off in a world of flames and scars, but with a tulip nestled in his hair kisses on his brow.

He wanted to do what he couldn’t in life.

It took two arguments and a screaming match for Shiro to let Lance in on the funeral plans.

“Please tell me why you think I’m so incapable of taking care of someone I ALSO love,” Lance seethed, glaring at the phone despite Shiro not seeing it.

“I don’t think you’re incapable, Lance,” Shiro said, Lance aware his words hurt. “You need to focus on healing. You have a broken arm, leg, and fractured ribs. You’re not okay.”

“Don’t you patronize me, Shiro. I’ve had a week to recover and have been taking my medication. I can handle this.”

“A week is nothing with how long it will take you to move normally.”

“That’s bullshit. I saw you fight through ordinary tasks and your job when you lost your arm. If you can do that why can’t I with my injuries?”

“It’s different.” Shiro reasoned.

“No it isn’t! I’m not a vegetable, Shiro.” Lance said. “I’ve been through this ringer before. I can help. I can do this. Please trust me with at least some tasks.”

Shiro sighed. “Lance, this isn’t up for discussion--”

“Shiro--” Lance knew what he was going to say. Noticed how he switched from friend to father, and not in a good way. He meant well, but when he used the parental voice, when he acted like he knew more because of his age, it grated on Lance’s nerve. He wasn’t a child. 

It didn’t help that he used it anyway.

“Please take care of yourself.” Shiro said, beginning to break off and steer towards ending the call. About to use a phrase meant to silence Lance. “Adam and I have this, don’t worry--”

“Don’t you dare, Shirogane.”

Don’t say it. Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it.

“Keith would want--”

Lance snapped.

“I was his family too!” Lance screamed. He could tell his mother heard, for in the distance something breakable dropped and she called out to him. But he didn’t pause in his anger. Didn’t want to lose the steam that had built up call after call. He was done holding back. Done being quiet and reserved.

“I dated him! I loved him! I was engaged to him and I was there when he died. So what gives you the right to take away all that history, huh? What gives you the right to determine what is good for me and what Keith wanted? I deserve this one thing, Shiro. This one goddamn thing in this entire situation and that is sending off the man I LOVE. I may not be his brother but I am his fiance and I have just as much of a right to him as you do. Just because we weren’t able to get married doesn’t mean I lose all claim to what he had!”

The tears were already flowing, but he didn’t let Shiro hear it. Wouldn’t let him see his vulnerability, how his ribs ached from the exertion and the burning sensation returned like a cavity. He used the anger--used the boiling in his stomach--to speak for him. To give him a voice when he had none in his darkest hours. Lance was--IS--his family. Lance was not weak. Lance was not going to negotiate. Lance will fight. If he couldn’t fight for Keith to live, he would fight for Keith to be remembered through the gaze of a paternal family and the gaze of the romantic.

He would not be stripped of anything else. Not anymore.

Shiro was silent, no doubt shocked by Lance’s outburst. 

“I am a part of his family too, Shiro. And he was a part of mine. He visited my family in Cuba. He was there when my dad died. He bonded with my mother and siblings. He cooked, cleaned, and took care of the animals. He was one of us. So for once in your fucking life, listen to me when I say I am taking part in the memorial service. I don’t care if I have to fight you physically or in the court--I want in or so help me I will make you regret it. You think you’re protecting me, but you’re not.”

Lance sniffed, grinding his teeth so he didn’t give away his buried despair. How he slipped to the ground as he finished, pulling at his short locks and taking short breaths. He closed his eyes, awaiting the sound of Shiro’s anger. His admonishment twisted into scorn. For him to throw down the guillotine and severe any chance Lance had at helping with the service. 

He just wanted to give Keith a goodbye. To show how sorry he was for the accident. To make up for the fact they could not get married. How he prayed to the heavens for the roles to be reversed. For the tragedy to not have happened, even if it meant screwing with fate. But no matter of praying to a real or false God would do anything. 

Please, Shiro. If you hear his desperation--if you hear his pain--let him do what he couldn't do that day. Let him give back to Keith and to show how sorry he was.

Let him show how much Lance loved him.

Lance expected yelling. But was surprised when Shiro broke the silence with a quiet lilt, rivaling the gentle breeze of a spring afternoon. He wasn’t out to rip apart Lance’s throat. Rather, he heard the plea. Listened intently, and came to a conclusion that was fresh air in his dry lungs.

“Okay. Okay, I hear you Lance.” He said. “You’re right. You guys are family. I just--I didn’t mean to make you feel...useless. You can help. Just...just let me know if it becomes...too much. Alright?”

Lance nodded despite not being seen. “Yeah. Yes, I’ll let you know.”

“Good. I’ll text you with the list of stuff we have to do and you can pick which ones you can handle.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Be kind to yourself.”

“I will.”

“Good. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye. Oh, and Shiro?” Lance started.

“Hm?” 

“Thank you for listening.”

From then on, Shiro has kept Lance up to date on plans. On how long the process will take, the cost of transporting a body from the hospital, the wake, the dates of everything, the whole nine yards. 

Who knew dying would be just as expensive as getting married? The bitter irony. 

Which reminds him, he has to do some cancelling. The money meant for the wedding will have to be used for Keith’s funeral, and if Lance didn’t cancel the reservations now, their credit cards and bank account wouldn’t be able to cover half of the expenses. There is Shiro, but he was no millionaire. They were just people trying to get by in the world.

Lance never knew a phone could feel so heavy. Especially when so many joyous calls were made not too long ago. 

Like the time they chose the bakery around the corner to create their wedding cake, a young, sweet couple glad for the appointment and helping as much as they could in the final decisions.

The fun part was eating all the cake, of course. The two got stomach aches from the immense amount of sugar they consumed (courtesy of them skipping out on lunch). Keith was loving the chocolate, disgusted with the love Lance held for vanilla. 

_ Keith cringed as Lance took a huge bite of the vanilla cake with the white chocolate ganache. “You’re gross. That alone calls for a divorce.” _

_ Lance narrowed his eyes, pointing his fork at his dumb fiance. “Oh come on, take a bite. It’s not so bad.” _

_ Keith shook his head, leaning back as if the cake was infected with some sort of virus. “No, I’m good.” _

_ “Awwww, is the big bad Keithy scared of a little flavor?” Lance scooted closer to Keith, waving the fork in his face. Keith was close to falling off his chair, shaking his head and threatening to karate chop the fork away. Maybe Lance’s hand along with it. It was like he was a child being fed a piece of broccoli, choosing starvation over the bitter taste of a mini tree.  _

_ “Just one bite, you’ll love it.” _

_ “I’d rather walk on a bed of hot coals” _

_ “Watch out everyone, we have a badass in here shunning an innocent cake for being pretty and delicious. This is taste testing for our destined, beautifully decorated, maybe on the expensive side cake. You can’t reject something without giving it a try, now eAT.” _

_ Like the child he was, Keith viciously shook his head more, going so far as to lightly bite Lance’s arm. If Keith was anything in his past life, it was a cat with how much he loved you one moment, then scratched you with sass the next. But this was Lance, and if there is one thing he loved to do, it was soften Keith’s metal heart. Sweep him off his feet. Possibly risk the chance of being bit just for the chance to smooth talk him. He was a flirt. A flirt who would give his all to the one person he dedicated his life to.  _

_ This was what their life was like. Silly and playful. They had their moments, but never to the point where someone would call it toxic. Lance wrapped his arm around Keith, not too tight, but enough to gain a grip. Keith resisted at first, attempting to wriggle himself out of his arms, but stopped when he saw Lance pull the fork back and leaned his forehead against Keith’s. It was a moment. A second where they were alone, the shop disappearing and the noise of the staff becoming but a background hum. It was something from a movie, where the romantic music was to circle itself around the endgame couple, the climax to the story fast approaching. His eyes were covered by rose colored glasses, red hearts flying around. _

_ Right as they were about to kiss, Lance pulls away and shoved the forkful of vanilla cake in Keith’s mouth.  _

_ The only reason Lance wasn’t running away from the fury-driven man in front of him was because Keith was too busy being in a state of shock and disgust. He chewed once, twice, three times before he swallowed it and proceeded to chug a whole glass of water. _

_ “What the FUCK, Lance?”  _

_ He put his hands up in defense. “Hey, you can’t knock it until you try it.” He winked, internally congratulating himself for getting past Keith iron walls once more.  _

_ Keith was practically steaming from his ears. His face was red, and his eyes glimmered with betrayal. He wasn’t truly mad--not when compared to that one incident between Keith and James. That was messy and Lance was pretty sure James went to the hospital with a broken leg. But Lance wouldn’t describe him as ecstatic either. Lance made an attempt to shrug it off, stating he wouldn’t do it again and that he would go so far as to give Keith the last two chocolate chip cookies he had stashed in his secret treasure trunk at home. But Keith just sat there and stewed, daggers stabbing every inch of Lance. _

_ Alright, Lance may have messed up. _

_ Lance slumped and made his way to Keith, sitting himself next to his fiance. Keith was rigid, jaw clenched and still giving Lance the evil eye. Lance activated his puppy dog eyes, them shining in the light perfectly and his lip jutted out enough he could pass as an injured, innocent young man with no ill thought. _

_ “I’m sorry, really,” Lance said, wrapping an arm around Keith’s middle. “I thought it was different enough you’d have a change of heart.” _

_ “You had me believe you were going to kiss me!” _

_ “I love seeing you soft and mushy. It’s a rare sight.” _

_ Keith growled and turned away, huffing. Lance, up for the challenge of cheering up his beloved, moved from one side of Keith to the other. He would keep doing so, if it means Keith looked at him. _

_ “Okay, I promise not to do that again. I swear on my life. Lets have fun and try some cake, you were super excited about it all morning.” _

_ “I wasn’t excited.” _

_ Lance rolled his eyes. “Edgelord, thy name is Keith.” _

_ “I--You’re not helping your case, you know!” _

_ “What are you going to do, ban kisses?” Like Keith could do that. He may not outwardly show it, but he is a cuddler; an affectionate person underneath all the vines and steel. He wore leather jackets. He rode motorcycles. He got in fist fights and he wears fingerless gloves 95% of the time he is out in public. Lance did most of the doting around their friends, smothering him with hugs and eskimo kisses. It would be enough to make Pidge groan and wish to rip out her eyes. Keith would soak it up, a plant enjoying the sunshine and taking in every last drop before the moon towered upon the earth again. When they were home alone, they would be snuggled up together morning and night. Keith would be the first one to collapse on Lance’s chest after a long day of work, and be the one to wake up to himself sprawled on top of him. Even when the insomnia hit and Lance’s back to him, he would lean his head against Lance and play on his phone until grogginess overtook him. _

_ He did not say nor convey it, but he was all about the affection. He would not win this challenge. _

_ Yet Keith, ever so slowly, looked at Lance, took his arm, and removed it from his back. He proceeded to take two seats back and grabbed his half of the samples, shovelling a piece in his mouth. _

_ “Now that you mention it, yes. No more kisses or cuddles for the time being.” _

_ To Lance’s horror, he meant it, judging by the sheer determination in Keith’s penetrating gaze as he met Lance’s with those words. He was serious. Dead serious at that, and if there is one thing Keith was good at, it was living up to challenges. It did not matter if he would win or lose, so long as he made his opponent squirm.  _

_ And...And is he defying Lance’s powerful puppy dog eyes? How!? _

_ “Oh come on Keith--buddy? My man?” _

_ “Yes, loverboy?” Keith was enjoying this way too much. _

_ It didn’t help Keith lifted his feet on top of the chairs, preventing Lance from trying to slide his way closer. He was being a little shit. A shit that knew what he was doing. Lance was a loverboy--he loved with all his heart and enjoyed showing it to his friends, family, the world, and the small bubble between him and Keith. He did not even know if he could last a couple of days, let alone a week of Keith making Lance eat his own words.  _

_ “You made your point,” Lance whined, kicking his feet up like a petulant child. “Don’t act like you did when I forgot the bonding moment--” _

_ “You didn’t forget! You intentionally hid it until you done goofed and exposed yourself during movie night at Pidge’s!” _

_ “That was one time!” _

_ “One time too many.” _

_ Lance’s fake puppy dog eyes became genuine, tears quivering at the edge of his waterline and his lip wobbling at the idea of Keith refusing to so much as hold hands while walking home. “Pleeeeease Keith? I’m sorry, don’t be mean before our wedding.” _

_ While Lance was...weak to Keith’s intimidation tactics, Keith wasn’t immune to Lance’s puppy dog pout, especially when it is real. Like Lance had said, Keith was a softy. A softy who sighed, put down his fork, and removed his feet from the chairs keeping Lance away from him. He silently opened his arms, Lance immediately puckering up and embraced him. _

_ “I knew you couldn’t resist me.” Lance joked. _

_ Keith chuckled. “Okay, loverboy. Just don’t shove anymore gross cake in my mouth.” _

_ “You got it!” _

_ “Oh, and Lance?” _

_ “Hm?” _

_ Keith pulled away, smiling. “You forgot this.” _

_ With that, Keith took the huge piece of cake he sliced off with his fork and shoved it in Lance’s face, chocolate frosting dribbling down his nose and chunks of hard chocolate sticking to Lance’s lips. Lance sat there, astonished by the sudden assault as cake covered his entire jaw. Keith began to laugh, his shoulders shaking and hands flying up to his mouth to stifle the amusement quaking through his chest. It did little to lessen the blow, his laughter only increasing as Lance screeched, swearing colorful words in spanish. He didn’t make too much of a mess, but enough Lance would definitely need to wash off. _

_ “Fiend! Wretch! Absolute betrayal! From my own lover!” Lance threw up his hands. “To think my betrothed would stab me in the back!” _

_ “Okay, now you’re being dramatic.” _

_ “I don’t take words from a dirty liar.” Lance said, wiping his face with at least ten napkins. _

_ “Serves you right for tricking me. Now you know how it feels.” Keith leaned in, practically taunting the boy. “And what are  _ ** _you_ ** _ going to do about it?” _

_ Lance carefully contemplated his next move before he smirked, reaching towards Keith’s unguarded sides. Keith was too busy being amused by Lance’s misfortune for him to notice Lance’s move--not until it was too late. Keith was meant to be good with his reflexes, always quick to react. When they were first getting to know each other, Keith accidentally twisted his arm in response to him suddenly going in for a hug. Keith apologized, of course, but was always on his toes. Whether it was a stranger like Lance or a family member like Shiro, his defenses maintained their stance. _

_ Yet Lance knew at this point, he was more likely to drop his guard. He did so at the most opportune time.  _

_ Lance had him in his arms and before Keith could swipe his hands away or kick him in the shin, Lance began to tickle him. Keith did not like his sides being poked. There was a reason for that. Wonderful knowledge Lance would put to use.  _

_ “No, no no no Lance what the f-nO!” Keith twisted and turned, but there was no escape. He kept his laughter to shaky giggles, but swayed and shook, weak to Lance’s touch. Keith could have flung him across the room. Could have twisted a finger just to get him to stop. However Keith was not violent with Lance--he was taught to use his training during critical times. Not when his fiance was literally tickle fighting him. He could not believe he didn’t see it coming. And he couldn’t believe there was no good exit from the hell he invoked. Lance was having too much fun, and Keith was dying from laughter. Tears were streaming down his face and leaning too far into Lance. Every time he tried to pull away, Lance would yank him back, his long limbs really being of use. Keith yelled for him to stop, biting at his arm. Lance planted a kiss on his cheek, plainly refusing. They were adults living briefly in a world where they were children. Where stress did not exist and responsibilities faded into the ether.  _

_ the two creating enough of a racket the employees came out to check if they were alright. They stopped, apologizing profusely if they caused any problems, but the staff smiled and reassured them that as long nothing was broken, Keith and Lance would be fine.  _

_ The couple was not able to finish the first round of samples, the coordinator asking if they wanted to continue. The boys said yes, commenting on how they were just messing around and were still interested in hiring them. Lance and Keith calmed their bubbling giggles as the staff came and left, dropping off several other delicious confections. Each one was new and even more vibrant. And the variety of flavors were a dance party, colors glittering about and the sensation of confetti finishing off the course. Their teeth and stomach would not be happy later, the boys destined to regret their decision in consuming all sorts of cakes and temporarily swearing off sugar. _

_ Lance held a piece to Keith. Keith eyed him suspiciously, fighting back a smile. He covered his mouth, chewing the last bit of red velvet. “Aren’t you planning to seek your revenge?” _

_ “Not gonna lie, I thought about it. But I like getting kisses.” _

_ Keith hesitated, debating if it was worth the risk. Slowly he removed his hand from his mouth, keeping a watchful eye on Lance. As he gently bit down on the fork, he couldn’t help but notice Lance’s lovestruck expression. He watched him with the most tender gaze, Keith’s belly doing flip flops. It was like looking in a mirror, Keith’s resting bitch face cleaved off for his honey-covered, rose petal sparks in the shine of his irises. Some may call them fools in love. Others would say they are simply at a honeymoon phase, implying their light would dwindle with harsh realities and the hills of challenges.  _

_ Yet Keith, as well as Lance, knew this was an undying love. They may find themselves in a hitch; in a brief moment of darkness or anger. But those moments will never outshine the good, their years of clawing and fighting for each other paying off.  _

_ There was no trick from Lance. They shared the romantic minute, a brief glimpse of what their official wedding would be like. If you add the tears that would probably be shed. _

_ Their eyes met, and they were back to laughing. How could they not, when life was being oh so sweet. _

_ As predicted after choosing the cake of their dreams, they went home with much regret over the last piece. They could already feel the cavities making a home, and Lance wondered if there was a thing “death by cake”. _

_ Along the way, from the shop to their home, their hands remained interlocked. They swung up and down, stuffed with the brightness of a new day.  _

The bakery was confused as to why Lance was cancelling the order. It had not been made yet, that would have been hours before the wedding, maybe a whole day considering the sheer amount of decorating and careful baking needed to be done. They asked if the service was not up to par, if their experience could have been improved.

Lance reassures them it is not a fault of their own. He does not tell them what happened. Does not inform them of the passing of his fiance, fearing he would break his collected demeanor and start speaking through a constricted, strained throat. Technically, they do not need to know the truth. It is none of their business, and Lance has had enough pity to last the rest of his life. Maybe this was why Shiro opposed at first, aware they may ask questions. But there was also a chance they would assume the most common factor of cancellations: the couple broke up. 

Lance isn’t sure what is worse: being left broken hearted because of Keith left him for someone else, or for him to be dead. Either way, Lance is left behind. Left to heal his wounds by himself.

The bakery eventually got the picture and kindly thanked him for his business, stating he would receive a full refund since they never began on the cake. Lance hung up the phone, then flipped his notebook back to reveal a list of other calls he needed to make. There was the florist, Lance biting on the tip of his pen. They were given a discount by how much they visited the shop, the young blonde woman with pigtails and blue eyeshadow excited to talk plants with them.

_ “Oh, those are very popular. A hit when Valentines comes around.” She said, dazzled over the white and red carnations as they looked around. She took an interest in Keith’s attention laying on the combination. “Roses are a standard, but carnations are just as powerful.” _

_ “Really?” Lance replied, glancing at her nametag. “Have any other suggestions, uh...Romelle?” _

_ She clapped her hands, excited. “Many! Every flower has a meaning, and you will find yourself in awe of the selection we have. There is more than just one romantic flower--and cheaper.” _

_ She went about the shop, pointing out a variety of flowers radiating romantic wedding vibes. She explained their meanings, saying how most people did not know a flower’s true gift until they had done some research. Receiving them and first thinking they are pretty was acceptable. But it had a better impact if the buds of earth were purchased and given to those beholding their history. They were the language of mother nature. The gift the Gods blessed the humans before locking themselves in the heavens.  _

_ Romelle was showing Lance and Keith Tiger Lilies when Keith spotted a familiar white flower, gliding a finger along its petals. _

_ “What about these?” He asked. _

_ Romelle stopped and looked over, shaking her head. “You do not want lilies at your wedding.” _

_ Keith quirked an eyebrow. “Why?” _

_ She gave him a sad smile. “Because those are for mostly funerals. They symbolize death, or the loss of the loved one. But if it is love that goes beyond death you wish for...” She walked over to the other side of the room where the sunlight hit the most. She plucked two kinds of flowers, one more caved in on itself, while the other stretched beyond its boundaries. _

_ She held out the red one. “Tulips for undying love. And white irises for purity.” She then held out a clear white flower, the two calling out to the couple, wishing to be held. “The combination of these two would mean the pure love you both have for one another will never go out, even if a scythe intervenes.” _

_ Keith held the white iris and Lance the tulip. They exchanged a look, a secret conversation only they could understand.  _

_ They smiled, and without hesitation, ordered the tulips and irises. They were going for a purple hue initially, but as Romelle made clear, meaning trumps simple aesthetics.  _

Lance dials the number at least five times, each one messing up the number order because his one good hand kept shaking. As he places the phone against his ear, he secretly hopes the shop closed early.But it is four in the afternoon, and the phone rings twice before a cheery, high pitched customer service voice comes through the receiver. 

“ _ Romi’s Bouquets _ , this is Romelle speaking, how may I help you?” 

“Uh...Hi, Romelle. It’s Lance--the one with the wedding?”

It does not take long for her to remember. “Oh, yes! The one with tulips and irises! What can I do for you? Did you need to order more?”

“Er...no, not exactly. I need to...cancel them.” It is like speaking through a mouthful of glass. It hurt, saying he needed to cancel something Romelle looked forward to. For him to be stripped of an event he had been counting down every day before the accident. 

“Cancel?” Romelle says, surprised. “As in, a couple units or the entire thing?”

“All of it, unfortunately.” Lance cannot keep up his indifferent front, his bitterness and grief bleeding into his voice. “There has been a...change in plans.”

A beat went by, Romelle seemingly sharing the deafening silence with Lance. “I see.” She sounds sad. “Well, I hadn’t put in the order yet, since it was months away. I’ll make a note of it, and your refund should be back into your account in a couple of days to a week. Is there anything else I can do?”

Yes. Turn back time. Prevent the accident. Yell at Lance for being an idiot. Rip the universe to shreds for giving happiness and then tearing it away, stealing his soul with it. Maybe prevent Lance from ever meeting Keith so that both of them could have lived longer, better lives. Better at least for Keith. 

Make the tragic lilies turn into the irises and tulips the couple hoped for.

Wait a second.

“Lance? Are you still there?” Romelle asks. 

Weddings need flowers. But doesn’t funerals as well? Lilies have a connection to death, but does everything have to pertain to that one aspect at a funeral? By technicality, they would be celebrating the person’s life. Not throwing a party because someone died. The connotation is made out to be grim and covered in shadows. Yet, there could be light in the throws of a tragedy. The dead does not want their family to be surrounded by doom and gloom, but rather grasp a light in a sea of darkness. That’s the point of the wake, isn’t it? To say goodbye, shed some tears, and leave with a plan to make peace in hopes of seeing them again when they too pass away. They will be sad. However if they were to remember Keith, they are not to remember just him broken and bloody. But rather the guy who brought laughs with his sarcasm and lended an awkward hand to those down in the dumps. He was never good at expressing himself with words. Actions, on the other hand--actions was what he did.

Lance and the others could speak to their heart’s content at his wake. To Keith though, he’d want to see action.

“Actually Romelle, don’t cancel the order.”

“Don’t cancel it?”

“Yes. Instead, I want to change the location and time. I’ll be willing to pay the extra fee to have them shipped over sooner, if needed.”

“Uh, sure,” She stammers. “But where would you need them shipped? I thought you were implying the wedding was cancelled.”

Lance squirmed, glad Romelle cannot see him. “It...It is. In a sense. We still need flowers, and since these are prepaid, might as well use them for something equally as important, right?”

“I kind of understand. If you don’t mind me asking, where to? I do have to inform my delivery guys of where to take them when they arrive.”

Lance forgot, Shiro and him wouldn’t be picking up the flowers. There wouldn’t be enough room in their small cars, and they would be busy most of the day getting the wake set up before visitors arrived. He does not want to go into the details, it is still fresh and acidic in his throat. But it’s not like Romelle could read his mind. Could predict the future. He pushed to be a part of the planning, he has to prove Shiro wrong for thinking of keeping Lance out of it. This here is a step. Not an easy one, but a step. The bare minimum he can do is state the address, hang up, and work to quell the shaking in his chest.

He breathed in, touched the rings around his neck, and let's go.

“It’ll be at a funeral home,” He says, slow and to the point. “We haven’t picked which one yet. I’ll call you with the address when we do.”

There was silence on the line. A silence which seemingly went on for ages, the clock’s ticking suddenly being very loud. It echoes in Lance’s ears, so much so he questioned if Romelle had hung up and left him with the void caving in on him.

As she finally speaks, she sounds out of breath. Dumbfounded, just like Lance on the first night he woke up in the hospital. 

“I am so sorry, I didn’t--I--” She stammers for the right sentence, afraid the glass she opened up would shatter in her hands. “Is there anything I can do? I can refund you, but you can keep the flowers--”

“Romelle,” Lance starts, kind and masking his pain. “It’s alright. You didn’t know. Just...hold onto my order for me, will you? Those flowers...They meant a lot to Keith. And me, but mostly him. He smiled not only with his mouth, but his eyes. It was rare for him to do that with items. He didn’t even argue when I suggested we both had a bouquet of them at our wedding.”

He stops, realizing he said too much. “Oh, I’m sorry. That must have been inappropriate--”

“It wasn’t,” she whispers. “I can empathize. I’ve never fallen in love with someone, but I’ve lost. You’re not alone, Lance.”

“Thank you, Romelle.”

“Let me know about any changes, if that’s okay.”

“I will. Thank you, again. I’ll call you back soon. Goodbye.”

“O-oh, wait Lance!” Romelle cries.

Lance refrains from pulling the phone away from his ear, curious. “Uh, yeah?”

“You’ll be able to smile again, I promise. Hold out for a little longer. The world may seem cruel, but I believe it will right itself once more as it had done for millions of years.”

She hangs up, not leaving Lance room to reply. Lance stares at the phone, wondering what she could have meant. Right itself? How could it right itself, Keith is gone. Unless there is a god keeping track of all the tears he shed--aware of how his heart does not beat the same way as it did--he doubts such possibilities will occur.

He may heal. But when? How long? Could he ever move on and fall in love again?

If that is the plan of the world, he doesn’t want it. Not now, at least. He will see where he is at after the funeral. As of now, he wishes to wallow and mourn. To continue sleeping in dreams so vivid, he had to question which is reality and which is fiction.

He makes some more calls until his mother returns, switching the place of location for some vendors (like the catering), cancelling the DJ and honeymoon the next. Shiro is shocked by what Lance got done, but thanked him anyway. 

It is the next day when he received a knock at his door, the morning sun peaking through his closed blinders and the incessant ringing of the bell demanding his full attention.

When he opens the door, he is caught off guard by who it is.

“Hi, Lance,” Shay greets with a small smile and two boxes in hand. “May I come in?”

\-----------

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oH? wHaT dO yOu mEaN rOmElLe?
> 
> There is a mystery afoot, and it will be explained in due time, as well as the big question "where is Allura?"  
No there is no plans for Allurance, sorry yall this is a klance zone. I will say though, the future holds some...DIVINE beings *wink wonk*
> 
> Please leave a comment and smASH that kudos and bookmark button! Your opinions mean the world and this fic wouldn't exist without your support (and chancla throwing)


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